


Witch and Stone

by Manuscriptor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Covenants, Crack Treated Seriously, Cryptids, Crystals, Dates at Denny's, Familiars, Fresno Nightcrawlers, Magic, Mothman, Multi, One Night Stands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sea Monsters, Sigils, Witch Hunters, witch!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: Sam and Rowena are the Bad Bitch Witches of Massachusetts. At least, they were until the Beast came to town.The creature is odd, six-legged, with a tendency to drip goo everywhere it goes. And it's hungry.In a world of cryptids, ghosts, and poltergeists, you'd think people would be used to corpses popping up every now and then but nope. They're not.Now, Sam and Rowena have to team up with Mothman, Champ, and a couple of Fresno Nightcrawlers to solve the mystery. With the People for the Ethical Treatment of Cryptids breathing down their necks, they have to locate, humanely trap, and possible relocate a never-before-seen animal that doesn't want anything to do with humans. And as it usually is in the world of cryptids, everything is a hundred times more complicated than normal.





	1. Sighting #1

The night the first human body showed up, the Bad Bitch Witches were out drinking and having a night on the town. They were dressed to the nines in fishnet, muslin, lace, and cotton. They wore their trademark hats, towering, pointed things that jutted straight up into the night sky and could only be held in place by magic. The night the first human body showed up, the Bad Bitch Witches were drunk off their asses and flirting with trashy guys at an even trashier bar. And the morning after the night the first human body showed up, the Bad Bitch Witches were hungover, passed out on their living room floor.

And they were completely unready for the coming chaos or the pounding on their front door.

“This is the PETC,” a booming voice shouted. “Open up, Witches Sam and Rowena!”

“What the fuck?” Sam muttered, the first one to open his gummy eyes and make sense of everything happening. “PETC?”

“People for the Ethical Treatment of Cryptids,” Rowena said, sitting up herself. She had slept in her makeup and her smoky eye was less smoky and more bruise-like. Hell, Sam's eyes probably looked the same way for the same reasons.

“Cryptids?” Sam repeated, groping to floor next to him and not finding what he was looking for.

“Here,” Rowena said, passing him a small pouch of powder after taking a pinch for herself. She tilted her head back and snorted it in one go, her body trembling as the spell worked its way from her head to get toes.

Sam copied her, taking a pinch of the powder for himself and snorting it. Almost instantly, his throbbing headache and twisting stomach disappeared. Other aspects of his hangover—the bags under his eyes, his need to throw up, and the ache in his bladder—all vanished in a moment, leaving him clear headed and thinking much better.

And then the pounding on the door continued.

“PETC!” the same, booming voice yelled. “Open up!”

“Coming! Coming!” Rowena shouted in response and then lowered her voice to talk to Sam. “Spell this place clean, would you, dear?” she said. “Snacks if you can handle it.”

Sam was already scrambling for the spell bags they kept prepared on the mantle over their fireplace. He tossed one on the couch and invoked it with a word. He stepped out of the way as items jumped into the air and began floating around the room, putting themselves away or in the trash. While Rowena made her way to the door, he made his way to the kitchen.

Food was a matter that magic couldn't he handle so easily. Sam grabbed a bag of pizza pockets from the freezer, dumping them on a plate and heating them with a snap of his fingers and a small square of ruby. He did the same with a pot of water, grabbing the mugs and three bags of green tea. He sweetened them with magic and a pinch of sugar before topping them all off with boiling water. When he carried the entire spread to the living room, Rowena had already returned and was sitting with a man dressed in very formal looking uniform.

“Samuel,” Rowena said, greeting him as he entered the room. “This is Agent Shearing.” She spoke through slightly gritted teeth, giving his plate of pizza rolls a hard look.

She gestured to the hulking beast of a man currently sitting on their couch. He had thick brown hair pulled back into a ponytail with the sides shaved down close. He also had thick sideburns that came down to the corners of his mouth but he didn’t have a beard strangely enough. He wore a navy blue uniform with silver trimming on all the seams. His eyes were dark and glinting, but Sam couldn’t sense any bad intentions coming from him.

“Hello, Agent,” Sam said, setting the mugs and plate on the coffee table. He shot Rowena a look of his own. _What's he doing here?_

Rowena raised her eyebrows and cocked her head slightly to the side. _PETC. Something about dead bodies. “_ Agent Shearing was just telling me the most interesting story,” Rowena said out loud, picking up her mug of tea and pointedly avoiding the pizza pockets.

“Not just a story,” Shearing said, his voice a low rumble closer to a growl than anything else. “This is very serious.”

“Oh, excuse me then,” Rowena said, crossing her legs. “Go on.”

Sam sat down, grabbing a couple pizza pockets as Shearing started to talk again. He was hungry, damn it.

“It started with cats,” Agent Shearing said. “The neighborhood cats, strays, kittens—anything was fair game apparently. People reported the bodies at the beginning of the month. Poor things had been shredded, slashed like a beast with claws and cunning. Guts emptied and eaten.”

“Poor things indeed,” Rowena agreed, taking a sip of her tea.

“We would have ignored it if it stayed at that,” Shearing said. “But no. It escalated from there. A couple dogs were found the same way. And then, this morning—” He paused and swallowed, as if steeling himself. “A human.”

“A human?” Sam said, grabbing more pizza pockets.

Shearing nodded. “Ripped completely open,” he said. “All empty on the middle. It was horrible to see. Found the poor fella sprawled on the steps of the town hall, blood tracked all the way down the stone steps. And then nothing, as if whatever did the deed just flew away. After taking all the organs and soft insides of course.” He face was pale by the time he finished.

Sam accidentally squeezed his next pizza pocket a bit too hard, popping it open. The red sauce oozed out onto his fingers and he paused to lick it off.

“So why did you come here?” he asked.

“Because,” Shearing said. “You are the Witches of Massachusetts. Surely you know of the going-ons in your territory.”

Sam and Rowena shared a look. To say they were a coven was a bit of a stretch. They were just two witches having fun, casting spells, and wooing hearts. If they happened across the key to immortality or if they created life out of nothing, it would just be a side effect to them having a good time. They certainly didn’t enforce their territory, not like most witches. No one payed them taxes or dues and no one came to them for helpful spells. Massachusetts was less their territory and more their playground.

“We do,” Rowena quickly said. “But, ah, like you, we thought the problem would go away on its own. And we didn't hear about the poor fellow until this morning, when you told us.”

Shearing nodded, accepting that explanation. “Well, the PETC wants you on case anyway,” he said. “It's a priority. Help will be provided for you as well.”

“Oh, no!” Sam said.

“We won't need any help,” Rowena finished.

“Too late,” Shearing said. “They're already dispatched to your location. Expect them some time tomorrow. Don't worry, they won't get in your way and they'll leave your territory as soon as you find whatever killed the man.”

“I'm sure we could catch it on our own,” Rowena insisted. “We won't need the help.”

Shearing gave them a grim smile and stood, planting huge, meaty hands on his knees to push himself up. His uniform jacket shifted enough to give Sam and Rowena a good look at his pistol, gleaming silver and engraved with the sigils to make powerful enough to kill a witch in a single blow. They both stiffened, snapping their mouths shut and swallowing their arguments.

“It takes a cryptid to catch a cryptid,” he said. “Good day, witches.” He gave them a small salute and the made his way to the door, not waiting to be excused.

“Oh, _cryptids_ ,” Rowena gasped, pressing a hand to her forehead as she collapsed against the back of the couch. “Samuel, I haven't worked with cryptids in _years_.”

“Neither have I,” Sam admitted. “Do you have any idea who—or what—is doing the killing?”

“I have _no_ idea,” Rowena said. “I have dealt with those critters in—oh! Centuries! What makes the PETC think I want to work with them now?”

“Apparently this,” Sam said, popping the last pizza pocket into his mouth and chasing it with the last of his tea. “Not many cryptids should be on killing lists though.”

Cryptids were known, which made their names rather oxymoron-ish. After several getting caught on tape and video, they came forward and joined civilization with homes and jobs and sometimes even families. Some cryptids kept to themselves. Some didn't. Some, like the one that had killed the man in town, were just being discovered. And most of the time, discovering a new cryptid was a good thing, a cause for celebration. That was most of the time.

Cryptids were allowed to exist and maintain their preferred lifestyle if and only if they didn't kill humans or other intelligent beings. Cryptids could not kill humans. Cryptids could not kill other cryptids.

If they did, then groups like the PETC stepped in, throwing agents and local witches at the problem. A cryptid that killed needed to be located, catalogued, and brought in to make sure it couldn't kill again. If the cryptid was determined to have killed accidentally or ignorantly, it would be educated on the matter and then be allowed to go free.

If the cryptid killed maliciously or on purpose and was determined to be dangerous to society, it would have to be detained and relocated to a safe and secure area where it could be watched by several scientists.

The whole matter wasn't too complicated. The only part that took actual work, was the finding and capturing which the PETC conveniently dumped off on somebody else. How nice.

“And here I was,” Rowena said, massaging one of the temples. “Thinking I could have a carefree summer of just preparing daily spells and drinking hemlock wine.”

While that sounded fine and dandy and very tempting indeed, both she and Sam were now stuck.

“Our _help_ is coming tomorrow,” Sam said. “What do you suppose that is?”

“Cryptids,” Rowena all but wailed. “Cryptids to catch cryptids. They'll be staying _here_ , in the house. Probably getting their fur and feathers and _grime_ all over the place.” She shuddered. “It will be horrid.”

“Maybe it won't,” Sam said. “We can spell the place to clean itself, and if we catch the creature fast enough, they'll be here for what? A week? And week and a half at most.”

“I would hope so,” Rowena said. “I wanted to drink this decade away, not spend it hunting down a stray cryptid.”

Sam nodded his head in agreement. It was definitely not how he wanted to spend his summer either. He definitely wasn’t as old as Rowena was, just a couple centuries compared to her millennium but he still felt the crawl of time. A wasted summer was still a wasted summer. He wanted to live life, not get stuck down hunting some stupid cryptid.

“I guess we should make sure the place is good for tomorrow,” he said. “When the other people arrive.”

“The other _cryptids_ , Samuel,” Rowena said. “The other cryptids.” She swung to her feet elegantly, tossing her hair over her shoulder and hurrying off deeper into the house. “I need to hide the spell stuff,” she called over her shoulder. “Lock the ingredients pantry. Make sure everything that’s valuable is bolted down. I’m going to take an inventory of the house before and after this whole ordeal.”

Sam had to agree to that. He didn’t want any of his stuff being messed with. He mentally flipped through spells, wondering what he could use to lock his closet and dresser. He had some name brand clothing that could go without being touched by wings and claws.

So he and Rowena set about making the entire place cryptid-ready for tomorrow. And the day after that, they would start the hunt. Hopefully they would find the human-killer quickly. Then he and Rowena could go back to their drinking and gambling and knuckle-bone scrying without the PETC or any other organizations getting into their business.

Sam smiled to himself, stooping to gather the articles of clothing off the floor. They were in the hallway so he couldn’t be sure if they were his or Rowena’s. He thought about getting drunk of hemlock wine. He thought about hustling pool tables and poker games. He thought about having one night stands with all the girls and guys that came through town.

That was the kind of summer he had been looking forward to, a summer of fun and games and memories that he could pile his magic into and harness into spells.  

He didn’t want a summer of cryptid hunting. He wanted a summer of fun.

 


	2. Sighting #2

The next day came without ceremony, and that morning, Sam woke up the same as he always did. This time, however, he wasn’t hungover, he knew exactly where he was, and he hadn’t fallen asleep with his makeup on. All the same, he spelled his morning routine onto his face, yawning as the clothes and brushes and lotions were all applied to his skin with invisible hands.

He found Rowena in the kitchen, reading from an ancient tome that looked like it would fall apart at any moment. A spell bag sat in the middle of the table, probably controlling the dishes that were washing themselves and the coffee that was pouring out and mixing with creamer into several different mugs. As soon as Sam entered, one of the mugs jumped to attention and shot forward into his hand.

“Good morning,” Sam said, taking a sip of his coffee and finding exactly how strong he would need to handle today. Which was very strong indeed.

“Morning,” Rowena said. With a flick of her finger, the toaster popped up and the bagel that was inside flew out. It paused briefly to let itself be slathered in cream cheese before flying to her hand.

“Research?” Sam asked, wondering if Rowena could magic up him a bagel as well.

“Of course,” Rowena said and, reading his thoughts, did just as he wanted.

Sam took a bite of his breakfast as he sat down. “’Bout what?” he mumbled around his mouthful of food.

“Our wee beastie friend who showed up last night,” Rowena said, flipping through a couple pages. “Trying to find something that likes the guts of its victims and has claws the size of steak knives.”

Before Sam could offer his knowledge to the situation—which was that he didn't know of a creature—the doorbell rang, drawing their attention away from the conversation. Rowena gasped and snapped the gigantic book shut.

“They're here,” she breathed. “Oh, Samuel, you get the door. I'm going to spell my bedroom doors locked.”

Since Sam had did that last night, he nodded and stood, letting Rowena rush past him before making his way to the door. He munched his bagel idly, wondering who was coming to their house so early in the morning.

When he answered the door, all his questions were answered. Well, the one question of “who is at the door?” was answered. And then he had a million other questions which he had absolutely no answers for.

“Move, I’m gay,” the huge birdman on their doorstep said, shoving past Sam and into the house. “And grab my bags, would you?”

Sam stared at the empty space for a moment and then noticed the half dozen or so pink, floral printed luggage cases that sat on their walkway. He spelled them to come inside the house before turn and hurrying after the strange. . . . creature? Cryptid.

The man, well, male is more accurate, was over six foot. He had to be because he was taller than Sam was. He wore a Hawaiian print button up shirt. A vest was more accurate because the sleeves had been cut off to accommodate the wings he had instead of arms. The rest of his body was covered in black, glossy feathers, even his face which, instead of human, was more birdlike with a large blunt beak and red eyes partially hidden behind Gucci sunglasses.

The Hawaiian shirt perhaps made things more awkward than they needed to be, since that was the only clothing he wore. Not that Sam could see anything with all the feathers but still. Without the shirt, did the birdman consider himself naked? If so, was his not wearing pants considered having his dick out? Of course, finding pants that would fit his very much birdlike twiggy legs had to be a struggle.

“Who are you?” Sam said, watching as the birdman flopped down on their couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Mothman,” the birdman said. “Call me Richard. I was told there would be designer clothes.”

“Designer . . . . clothes?” Sam repeated stupidly.

Richard sighed again, raising one clawed foot to his face to dramatically remove his sunglasses. “I’m here to help find the new cryptid,” he said. “But the only reason I accepted the mission was the promise of good fashion and designer clothes.”

Sam was glad he had his closet spelled closed now. Although, if he had a chance to brag up his and Rowen’s wardrobe choices, he would admit, they were some of the more stylish witches in the United States. Before he could voice the opinion, there was more knocking on the front door.

“Stay here,” Sam said.

“Oh, honey, I’m not going anywhere,” Richard said with a roll of his eyes. “Too much walking is bad for my complexion.”

Before Sam could ask how he even _had_ a complexion under all his feathers, the knocking came again, sounding like a dozen different hands pounding on the wood. While the heavy oak was spelled to be near indestructible, Sam winced at the possibility of dents and scuffs. He threw the remainder of his bagel in the trash as he hurried past the kitchen. For some reason he was no longer hungry.

There was no peephole for him to check through, so all Sam could do was take a deep breath to steel himself before gripping the handle and pulling the door open.

Instead of one creature, however, two of them stood in the doorway, significantly smaller than Richard. They came up to Sam’s waist and had bluish-white skin that looked smooth to the touch. One was wearing sagging basketball shorts and the other was wearing ripped jeans; both were wearing backwards baseball hats. Sam wasn’t entirely sure how the clothing was staying up because the things didn’t really have any hips. Or arms. They were literally just legs with faces.

“Suh, dude,” the one in basketball shorts said. “Is, like, this the place where we’re hunting cryptids?”

“We were told there would be hot chicks,” the other added.

“Oh _gods_ , no!” Richard exclaimed, appearing behind Sam without warning. “Not the Fresno nightcrawlers. I’m not being paid enough to work with _them_.”

“Aaayyyeee, Richard!” Basketball Shorts said. “What’s up, my man?”

“Chase some dude’s car lately?” Baggy Jeans said with a smirk.

“That was _one time_!” Richard said. “And I didn’t know it was a man. I just wanted to say hello since he was near my home.”

“I’m Jimmy,” Basketball Shorts said.

“I’m Benji,” Baggy Jeans said.

“Are you also here to help us catch the cryptid?” Sam asked.

“Oh, suh, dude,” Jimmy said. “In whatever way we can.”

“But we’re also here to, like, get chicks,” Benji said. “So if you know some hotties, point us in the right direction.”

“I’m going to kill myself before this thing is over,” Richard said with a groan.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Benji said, pushing his way past Sam and into the house. “What about the survival of your species?”

“Oh, suh,” Jimmy said, following after Benji. “Are there even any other Mothmen? Moth _ladies_?”

Richard puffed up his feathers and, with a huff, perched his sunglasses back on top of his beak. Obviously more than a little flustered, he flounced his way back to the living room, claiming the position on the couch. “The survival of my people is _none_ of your _business_ ,” he stated firmly.

Jimmy snickered. “Whatever you say, pal,” he said, jumping onto the recliner. He was quickly joined by Benji, and they whispered and snickered to each other.

Sam didn’t want to know what about.

“How many more of you are there?” he asked.

Richard shot him a glare. “I _said_ , none of your business!” he said with a huff. “What is wrong with you people?! My sex life is _not_ a public matter!”

“That’s not what I meant!” Sam said, his cheeks going hot. He didn’t want to imagine Richard _or_ Benji or Jimmy procreating. “I meant, how many more of you will be helping me and Rowena find this new cryptid?”

“Honey, I wouldn’t know,” Richard said. “Where did you put my bags?”

“Front hallway,” Sam said. He looked to Jimmy and Benji. “Do you know?”

“Suh, dude,” Jimmy said with a nod. “I heard that Champ is joining us.”

“Champ?” Sam repeated, not recognizing the name. Hell, he wouldn’t have recognized Jimmy’s, Benji’s, or Richard’s names if they had been introduced as such.

“At least Champ is polite,” Richard practically moaned. “Is there a bathroom around here?”

Sam decided to banish all thoughts of cryptid bodily functions, reproductive or otherwise, from his mind as Richard heaved himself up from the couch and flounced off into the house. Before Sam could call out directions to him, there was a polite tapping on the door. Torn between the two tasks, Sam had to leave Jimmy and Benji in the living room and head to the door.

Sam didn’t even pause when he opened the door. At this point, nothing could phase him as much as Fresno nightcrawlers and Mothman showing up on his doorstep. At least, that’s what he _thought_.

He hadn’t been expecting a fucking sea creature with a jaw full of razor sharp teeth to be sitting on the porch.

“Marvelous day, Witch Samuel, my name is Champ,” the sea creature said. “I take it this is the house I will be staying at while we conduct research regarding the newest cryptid? Never mind me, I’ll leave my stuff in the bathroom. I prefer lukewarm water, don’t worry, nothing that will run the bill up.”

Sam wasn’t exactly sure how Champ moved so well on land with her—he was going to guess Champ was female from her voice—four flippers, but she waddled past him, forcing him against the wall with her hulking midsection. She just barely squeezed into the hallway and around the corners, and Sam was left to close the door behind her.

And then the screaming started.

“Rowena!” he yelled, bolting off into the house.

He rounded the corner out of the kitchen and collided with her, catching her in his arms before they could fall to the ground.

“Cryptids, Samuel!” Rowena spluttered. “In my _bathroom_!”

“That must be Richard,” Sam said and shook his head. “Mothman, I mean. And Champ maybe? It sounds like she’s going to be staying in our tub.”

Rowena almost fainted right then and there but caught herself. “We can do this, Samuel,” she said, sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than him. “Just find the bloody beastie as fast as possible and then all these troublesome roommates will be gone.”

“Yeah, see?” Sam said. “In fact, I bet if we go out tonight we can find it. It’s probably just some confused jackrabbit or something.”

“I’m going to need a drink,” Rowena said and pushed away from him. “Something strong that will help me handle all of this.”

Sam had to agree with her there. “Mix me up something too,” he said. “I’m going to make sure the bathroom isn’t torn apart.”

Richard had apparently gotten to the bathroom first which left Champ waiting in the hallway. Not that she was angry or upset about it. She was maybe a little stuck as she looked over her shoulder at Sam.

“Oh, hello, Witch Samuel,” she said. “I’m just waiting until Richard gets out of the bathroom to move in. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m just not quite sure about our plumbing,” Sam muttered. “Do you mind if I—”

“Climb over me?” Champ finished. “No, not at all.” She laughed, a sound that was clear and so damn human-like that Sam almost forgot she was basically related to Nessie. “Go ahead.”

Sam climbed up her tail and over her back, avoiding her flippers and finally managing to get in front of her. He took a moment to catch his breath before pounding on the bathroom door.

“Richard, open up!” he said. “I know you’re in there. Other people are waiting and you can’t take forever.” He bit his lip, trying to think of something that would coax him out. “Rowena and I want to discuss how to catch the cryptid.”

The door was suddenly flung open, and Richard stood there, a wingtip pressed to his chest. He heaved a sigh and dropped one foot from the door handle. “No need to yell,” he said. “I’m not deaf and you’re just going to lose your voice. Are we meeting in the kitchen?” He pushed past Sam without waiting for an answer.

“Thank you, Witch Samuel,” Champ said, already pushing past him into the bathroom. “I’ll be find in here and once I get all of your phone numbers, I’ll be able to stay in contact.”

“Um, okay,” Sam said, watching as she heaved herself into the bathtub which, thanks to Rowena being in love with Gothic Victorian and installing the claw foot porcelain bowl, was large enough for Champ to fit. It was basically a small swimming pool anyway.

“Samuel, kitchen!” Rowena called.

The kitchen was a lot fuller when it wasn’t just him and Rowena, Sam noticed. Richard stood near the refrigerator, holding a phone in one foot with impeccable balance. Benji and Jimmy were sitting on the counter, bouncing their sneaker heels off the cherry wood cupboard doors and earning dirty looks from Rowena who was standing near the sink, a martini in each hand.

Sam walked toward her, moving to take one of the martinis. Rowena moved them out of his reach.

“These are mine,” she said. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing.”

Sam sighed and resigned himself to dealing with the day sober.

“So here’s the deal,” Rowena said, taking a sip of the martini in her right hand. “We’re going to go out now, right away, and start looking for clues for this beastie. I want to be done with this as soon as possible.”

“Honey,” Richard said, slipping his phone into his pocket and then shifting his sunglasses so that they sat on his forehead. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can get ready for Coachella.”

“What do you have to do to get ready for Coachella?” Sam said. “I mean, besides get clothes.”

“I do a deep cleanse of my entire body,” Richard said. “And I bathe in moisturizer. With the amount of alcohol I’ll be drinking, I’ll need to _put_ the hydration back on.”

While Sam wasn’t sure if that was biologically correct, he certainly wasn’t about to argue the point with fucking Mothman. Instead, he decided it would be best if he just went along with Rowena’s plan.

“I agree with Rowena,” he said. “Let’s get this done and we can all go back to our own lives."

Suddenly, Sam’s phone started buzzing in his pocket. Slightly surprised, he pulled it out, studying the unknown number for a moment and deciding that with the current situation, he probably should answer despite the number.

“Hello?” he said, accepting the call and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Oh, good!” came a familiar voice. “I’m glad I was able to get your number so easily, Witch Samuel.”

“Champ?” Sam said.

“That’s right,” Champ said. “I’ll be helping from the house. It may be a surprise but I’m not very good out in the field. So I’ll act as a HQ for you guys. I’ll collect information and get you anything you might need.”

“Alright,” Sam said. At least he could relax knowing they wouldn’t have to lug a giant sea creature around town. 

“Save my number to your phone,” Champ said. “And good luck!” And then she hung up.

“I guess we can go,” he said. “If everyone is ready?”

“Are you kidding?!” Richard said. “I have to get dressed! These are definitely not hunting clothes!”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “I can spell myself ready in a minute,” she said. “But I would like a sufficient amount of time to get at least a little buzzed.”

It took Richard nearly an hour before he was ready. And ready was a terrible word for it. He wore a black leather bomber jacket with the trademark Gucci snakes embroidered on the back. He had red sunglasses to match as well and had black ankle warmers on his feet. Why he considered these clothes to be hunting clothes made no sense to Sam.

Sam had chosen to dress down: flannel and jeans. It was practical. It was sturdy. If he needed to run, he could definitely do so. When he tried to tell that to Richard, the Mothman only rolled his eyes.

“Honey, if we have to run, just kill me anyway,” he said. “Come on, let’s go.”

They made their way quickly to the sight where Agent Shearing had told them the body had been found although Richard was aghast at having to sit in the back of the car with Benji and Jimmy but he finally relented with the promise that as soon as they solved the case, he could go home.

Sam wasn’t sure what he had been expecting at the crime scene but it certainly wasn’t what they got.

The place where the body had laid was marked with a chalk outline but all around it was globs of inky black goop. For a moment, the entire group just stared. It was an absolute mess. Sam had been expecting to have to scrounge for clues but the place looked absolutely littered in them.

Besides the puddles of black ooze, Sam immediately spotted paw prints—definitely looking feline—about the size of his fist all around the scene. Chunks of black hair were scattered here and there and, of course, there was a puddle of blood.

“This looks less like a cryptid and more like a wild animal,” Richard said with a sniff.

“Agent Shearing was insistent it was a cryptid,” Rowena said, pulling blue latex gloves out of her clutch and putting them on with a snap. “So we’d better get to work.”

Sam warily crouched and stuck a finger into the black ooze. It was sticky and tacky and clung to his finger as he pulled it away.

Jimmy and Benji started inspected the footprints, comparing them to their own and whispering in hushed tones.

Richard picked his way around the worst of the mess and bent to inspect the body shape, standing inside the outline since that was the only clean area.

Rowena immediately set about collecting samples of the fur, blood, and ooze.

Sam, honestly, for the first time in his life, wasn’t really sure where to start.

 


	3. Sighting #3

“So get this,” Sam said, looking up from the book he was currently pouring over. “Cryptids appear basically everywhere in the world. In fact, nearly every place has its own stories.”

“That’s not new information,” Richard said, lounging on the counter and painting his already black talons blacker. “Honey, it’s _old_ news that we’re everywhere.”

Sam frowned. Well, if Richard or Jimmy or even Benji actually helped, then maybe Sam wouldn’t be researching old news. Richard was working his ‘complexion’ and Jimmy and Benji were outside sunbathing. Luckily, Champ came through where they couldn’t. Sam had her on speaker phone, sitting in the middle of the table so she could hear all the conversations.

Sam wasn’t quite sure how she typed with her flippers to Google things but she somehow did it, talking through a headset that was strapped permanently over her . . . . ears? Anyway, that’s how she was on the phone with them right now, encouraging if not a little condescending.

“That is fascinating, Witch Samuel,” she said. “In fact, there are so many cryptids in the world that many people believe we’ve only discovered twenty-five percent of them.”

“Only twenty-five?” Sam said. That didn’t seem like that many at all.

“Yeah, twenty-five percent of my ass,” Richard said, snapping the nail polish bottle shut and blowing on his talons to dry them. “Look, it’s obvious what this thing is.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he said, curious to hear Richard’s opinion of the entire ordeal. He sat back in his chair and closed his book. “What is it then? And why is it so obvious?”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said. “Black goo? Gutless victims? Feline claw marks? It’s obviously. . . . a . . .” He shifted from talon to talon, clearly trying to come up with an answer on the spot.

“Familiar!” Rowena said, bursting into the room with a huge book propped open in her arms.

“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Richard said triumphantly, raising a talon into the air. “Familiar. Wait, what?”

“The black goo,” Rowena said, dropping the book down on the table with a thud. She pointed to line of in the tiny printed text. “When a beastie is separated from their witch, they shall be hungry and shall crave flesh. They shall melt and crumble and search for magic outside their own.”

Sam swallowed hard. That didn’t sound like anything good.

“It must be searching for our magic,” Rowena said, looking at Sam. “That’s why it came here.”

“But if it’s a familiar,” Sam said. “Then what happened to its first witch?”

Rowena shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care,” she said. “All that matters is that now we know we can draw it out with magic, catch it, and this whole ordeal will be over.”

“Good!” Richard said, jumping up from his seat. “Who’s got magic? What will be the bait?”

“Well,” Rowena said carefully. “The beastie only seems to be active at night so we’re going to have to wait until later before setting anything up. As for magic, well, I could leave an active spell out in the middle of nowhere to attract it. But then it might fizzle out and go dud.”

Sam frowned. “That’s not going to work then,” he said.

Rowena gave him a smug grin. “Exactly,” she said. “We need an active magic force to use for bait. Something that won’t go flat. Something that is alive.”

Sam wasn’t exactly sure where this was going but it sounded accurate. “So what do you have in mind for bait?” he asked.

Rowena snapped the huge book shut and picked it up off the table. “You,” she said. “Because I’m not about to sit out in the cold and wet. I’m the older witch, Samuel, which means I will be better at springing the trap.”

“But if you’re the older witch,” Sam argued. “Doesn’t that you mean you have more magic and wouldn’t that make you more enticing bait?”

“Nonsense,” Rowena said, waving a hand. “Let’s get you trussed up, dear, and go over the plan.”

The plan turned out to be very simple. Sam would sit out in the middle of the woods, inside one of the older, less-active faerie circles. He would have a backpack of some essential supplies, basic things like a silver knife, potions ingredients, several bottles of sugar water (for faeries if they did show up), and several bottles of energy drinks (for him, if they didn’t show up.) He had to leave his phone, since the iron and technology would upset the connection apparently. Sam would be completely alone.

Rowena and Richard would be watching him from a distance, ready to spring out and take action in case the beastie—as Rowena had taken to calling it—did appear. Jimmy and Benji would be unable to help because, apparently, they ran on sunlight and during the night, they were too tired to do anything. So Sam had to trust that Rowena and Richard would jump in to save him if the beastie did show up and was more than Sam could handle by himself.

That was the plan.

Trussed up, turned out to be something that Sam hadn’t been expecting. Trussed up meant being dressed in traditional witch garb. Nothing disgustingly stereotypical like a pointed nose and warts and a formless robe. No, traditional was much more fashionable.

It took Sam nearly the entire afternoon to get ready. Rowena prepared a brown ink imbued with her own magic that she painted onto his arms and chest, carefully drawing the sigils that would enhance his natural power. As that dried, Sam had to meditate and cleanse his mind. And then came the actual clothes.

First was thin, cotton shifts to act as underwear. An article that looked like shorts on his bottom half and essentially a crop top for his top half. Then came tight, black pants and a tight tank top. Over that was a deep blue shawl that draped around his shoulders and hung past his hips, almost down to his knees. A tall, floppy-brimmed hat was placed on his head, tied by a satiny blue ribbon under his chin but also spelled into place. A half-skirt of the same deep blue material was tied around his waist. The final piece was heavy hiking boots with tall, thick heels that put Sam almost a head over Richard.

“Pretty good,” Richard said, but Sam could see the way the birdman was eyeballing his boots, clearly wishing he could fit his talons into something like that.

“A brief meal of mushrooms,” Rowena said. “And you will be ready to go.”

By the time she sautéed and prepared the small dish of mushrooms for him to eat, without magic because apparently that was important, the sun was low in the sky, turning the cloudless expanse bright orange and red. And for the second time that day, Sam found himself in the car driving out towards the outskirts of town, although this time, it was much more nerve wracking.

They parked on a side road and had to hike to the clearing. It was hard going. The boots Sam had to wear were definitely not made for walking. But eventually they made it.

The faerie ring Rowena had chosen was centuries old, the mushrooms that made the circle a silvery grey and growing all the way up to Sam’s shins.  

“Sit,” Rowena said, waving a hand at the center of the ring. “Do you have everything you need?”

Sam nodded as he took his place inside the mushrooms, hoisting his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Everything that you’re letting me take,” he said.

Rowena gave him a look, setting spell bags around the compass points of the fairy ring. “Hush,” she said. “Make too much noise and you’ll scare away what we’re trying to catch.”

Sam rolled his eyes but obliged, keeping his mouth shut as Rowena finished setting up the rest of the trap. Then she dusted her hands on the sides of her dress and motioned for Richard. He stepped forward with a bag of his own. With a look of disgust, he slung it off his shoulder with one foot and upended it, dumping its contents out onto the ground.

Sam wrinkled his nose at the chunks of fresh meat that hit the ground with a dull thud. That certainly wasn’t appetizing.

“An incentive,” Richard said. “If the cryptid doesn’t find you bait enough.”

“Gee,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes. “Thanks.”

“We’ll be watching from a safe distance,” Rowena said. “And if anything happens, we’ll be sure to come running. If not, we’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“Alright,” Sam said. He slipped his backpack off, spelled the grass beneath him clean, and settled down for a long wait.

Rowena finished up a couple other preparations before nodding in satisfaction and gathering her own bag of supplies. “Best of luck,” she said.

And then they were gone and Sam was all alone in the middle of the fairy ring.

He took out the bottles of sugar water and set them aside so that if faeries did show up, they would be within reach. He pulled out his silver knife, setting that on the other side, in case something else showed up. Then he crossed his legs, making sure he wasn’t sitting on the skirt, and settled in for a long wait.

He meditated for the most part, letting his consciousness sink down and his magic rise up. It was a soothing practice that let him focus and draw on his power. If he happened to need it tonight, he would be ready.

The next time he became aware of his surroundings, pulling far enough out of his meditative state to actually study the trees and underbrush, it was dark. It must've been some time after midnight. Sam guessed maybe one in the morning by the moon which was full and round and provided a surprising amount of light. At first, Sam wasn't quite sure what had made him wake up.

And then he heard it.

The snap of a twig and the huff of a frustrated predator.

Sam whipped his gaze around, trying to locate the thing that was stalking him. He considered using magic, wondering if that would prompt the thing to attack or not. His legs were numb from being in the same position for so long, so scrambling to his feet and running wasn't an option. Sam grabbed his silver knife instead, holding it in front of himself as he continued searching the tree line.

It was far too dark, and Sam was left to construct a version of the beast based off the sounds he heard. It had to be large. No, _huge_. With fangs and, based off that growl Sam had heard earlier, vicious and hungry.

Sam mumbled a word of magic, a blessing to get himself out of this situation alive.

And that's when the beast broke out of the shadows of the undergrowth.

It was definitely feline. Huge and heavy, with a wide snout and pointed ears, around the size of the small show ponies Sam had seen on television before. Sleek black fur covered its wide shoulders, and while its claws were currently sheathed, Sam could only guess that that wouldn't last long.

The beast had three eyes, two in their normal positions and another on its forehead. All of them were an eerie glowing yellow-orange. As it turned lengthwise to prowl around the boundary of the clearing, Sam realized it had six legs instead of four and a long, whipping black tail. A moment later, Sam's previous fears were confirmed when the beast peeled back its lips and snarled, showing off long fangs that would hurt like a motherfucker if they got a hold of any part of Sam.

“Shit,” he muttered. The feeling hasn't returned to his legs and he wasn't quite sure what he would do if the creature charged him.

And then the bushes on the far side rustled, and a second feline beast prowled into the light of the clearing.

“Oh,” Sam muttered. “ _Shit_.”

They hadn't planned on two threats. They hadn't even considered the _possibility_ of two threats. They had _planned_ for one. Sam knew how to handle _one_. He had definitely not planned for two.

The second beast was similar to first but not exactly the same. It had three eyes, just like the first, but they glowed green instead of orange. It looked slightly larger than the first too, with more muscle around it shoulders and chest. That strange number of six legs made it somehow both clunkier and more intimidating.  It didn’t snarl. Instead, it padded forward, studying Sam with a curiosity that was so human, that Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“Come on, Rowena,” he muttered. “I thought you would be close by.”

Green-Eyes was now so close that it stood directly on the opposite side of the faerie ring. Sam could see the individual whiskers on its cheeks and the pink tongue that darted out to lick its lips. Sam swallowed and clung to his knife, his only defense if the creatures chose to attack.

Green-Eyes sniffed around the base of the mushrooms until it found one of the spell bags that Rowena had lift. As Sam watched, it picked it up and ripped it open, licking up the herbs and spices inside. Eating the magic, Sam realized.

Orange-Eyes followed suit once it realized there was something to eat, jumping forward to gulp down a spell bag for itself.

“Hello?” Sam asked. Maybe if he could establish communication, this whole situation could be solved without force. “My name is Sam. I’m a witch.”

Green-Eyes perked up the moment he started speaking, cocking its head at Sam.

“I have—” Sam swallowed hard. “I have magic for you, if you need it I mean.”

Green-Eyes twitched its ears and then opened its mouth into a gaping maw. The edges of its mouth stretched and pulled, the muscle dissolving into strings of goop. The pink tongue curled around the stout fangs and black, goo-ish drool dripped off its chin onto the ground.

And then it lunged forward and took a bite out of the mushroom in front of it, ripping the cap off and spitting it on the ground.

“Wait!” Sam said. “Don’t destroy the ring! The fae!”

Green-Eyes lunged forward again, grabbing another mushroom cap in its teeth and ripping it down. It was careful not to cross the line into the circle though. With its three eyes locked on Sam, it continued to tear at the mushrooms, using its front four paws and its teeth to rip them down. Orange-Eyes didn’t seem that interested, instead going after the other spell bags.

“Stop!” Sam yelled, jumping to his feet. He winced as his muscles protested harshly at the movement but he had to do something. “Stop now!” If faeries showed up and found their ring destroyed, Sam would be royally screwed.

Green-Eyes didn’t listen to him, hissing and snarling and continuing to rip down the mushrooms.

“Stop!” Sam yelled and without thinking, lunged forward.

He shoved the beast hard, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fur and skin for a brief moment before the beast was skidding away. It rolled a couple times and just sat there, stunned. Orange-Eyes jumped to its feet and darted a ways away when Sam had moved. It looked ready to either pounce or dart off into the shadows, watching the other beast carefully.

Sam gulped with the three green eyes turned to him, gleaming with a new energy.

And Sam realized he was outside of the faerie ring, standing away from his bag of supplies, away from his knife, away from anything that would be able to protect him from the beasts.

Green-Eyes pulled itself to its feet, ears laid back against its skull, whipping its tail back and forth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam said, not daring to move while under the creature’s gaze. “I didn’t mean that. I just didn’t want the circle to be destroyed.”

It wasn’t Green-Eyes who moved first. Orange-Eyes was the one who lunged, snarling, at Sam’s right side. Its claws slid easily through Sam’s pants, the fabric shredded in moments and then the skin underneath.

Sam yelled in pain, going down hard on that side. He grabbed at his leg defensively, scared when he felt the blood gushing between his fingers. He brushed against fur for a moment and kicked blindly in that direction. His boot connected with something, and Orange-Eyes yowled as it was shoved away, landing with a hard thud.

Green-Eyes growled, but to Sam’s surprise, it was directed at Orange-Eyes and not him. Green-Eyes jumped between Sam and Orange-Eyes, arching up its back and hissing at its companion. Its middle legs drew up close to its body, bulking it out and making it even bigger.

The two beasts stared each other down for a moment, leaving Sam to clutch as his wound, struggling to contain the blood. Without thinking, he muttered a healing spell, just a small thing that would clot his blood. But the Latin word made both the beasts snap their gazes to Sam and he gulped. Maybe that hadn’t been the best choice.

“ _Et erit lux_!” a familiar and very welcomed voice suddenly shouted.

It was as if a gigantic spotlight had turned on and filled the entire clearing, chasing away every shadow and blinding Sam for a brief moment before he got an arm over his eyes. He heard the scream that sounded too much like Orange-Eyes and then a thud. Something landed on his chest, and Sam squinted through the light to see Green-Eyes perched on his chest.

Its mouth cracked open, this time in a cheeky grin that showed off its teeth. Its tongue flopped out of its mouth and with a long slurp, it dragged it across Sam’s face, sandpapery and scratchy. Then it was bounding away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

And then Rowena was descending out of the sky with her arms raised above her head in all the true, witch glory. Richard was spiraling around her, eyes flaring red and terrifying as the bright light of Rowena’s spell slowly faded.

“Sam!” Rowena called.

“There’s blood!” Richard called. “A lot of it!”

Sam was feeling woozy and slightly out of it. Maybe the blood loss was getting to him. Maybe it was the buzzing, numbness that seemed to be slowly taking over his cheek, originating from where the beast had licked him. Either way, by the time Rowena and Richard landed safely on the ground, he was out cold.

 


	4. Sighting #4

When Sam woke up, he was in his own bed, propped up by about a million different pillows. A thick comforter was tucked in around his waist and his one leg was secured up, covered with white bandages, which was strange because nothing hurt.

Sam groaned and pushed himself up onto his elbows and was almost immediately tackled by a blur of feathers.

“I thought you had died!” Richard bawled, his claws digging uncomfortably through the blankets into Sam’s stomach. “I saw all the blood and thought you had _died_.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Sam said with a grunt as his stomach took most of Richard’s weight. “Can you get off of me please?”

Richard obliged, clambering off of him and perching in the chair pulled up to the side of his bed. Like, literally perched. He climbed up onto the top of the chair with his weight carefully balanced so that he wouldn’t tip over.

“What happened?” Sam asked. “My leg—”

“Richard insisted on the bandages,” Rowena said, walking into the room unannounced. “Even though I healed you with a spell the moment we arrived.”

“There was _blood_ ,” Richard said, indignantly, fluffing out his feathers. “And a lot of it. Sue me, I was worried.”

Rowena rolled her eyes and stepped up to the other side of Sam’s bed. “We saw the beastie,” she said. “Last night. It attacked you because you moved outside the faerie ring.” She gave him a hard look. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“That’s because there wasn’t just one,” Sam said, eager to defend himself. “There were two. Cat-like, with three eyes and six legs.”

“Two?” Rowena said.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “One was destroying the faerie ring so I jumped out to stop it. Then the other one attacked me.”

“There were two of the same kind?” Richard said. He sounded hopeful. “That sounds so . . . . nice.”

Sam nodded. “One with green eyes and one with orange eyes. The orange eyes one attacked me. The green eyes one made it stop.”

“Are you saying it protected you?” Rowena said. “Why would a cryptid do that?”

Sam shrugged. “But you were right,” he said to Rowena. “They ate your spell bags so they’re searching for magic. Maybe they only attacked people because they were hungry?”

“Two cryptids,” Richard murmured. “ _Two_ cryptids.”

Rowena narrowed her eyes and unwound the bandages around his leg with a single word. “Out,” she said to Richard. “To the kitchen. Make yourself useful.”

Richard narrowed his eyes back but snapped his beak shut, jumping off the chair and sulking out of the room. Only when he was out of the room and the door was closed behind him, did Rowena step up and continue talking.   
  
“Two?!” she said. “You’re sure there were two of them?!”

Sam nodded, leaning forward to unhook his head from the strap that was holding his leg up. He then kicked aside his blankets and sat up. “Of course,” he said. “I’m not going crazy. There were definitely two because one had green eyes and the other had orange eyes.”

“Now that messes everything up,” she muttered and looked at his now bare leg. “And they messed your leg right up too,” she said. “Vicious.”

“The orange-eyed one did,” Sam said. “The green-eyed one jumped between us.”

“Strange,” Rowena said.

“And I tried to talk to them,” Sam said. “They seemed to understand me but didn’t talk back.”

“So communication is possible,” Rowena said.

Sam nodded. “But, Rowena, I gotta be honest with you,” he said.

“Hm?” Rowena said with a raise of her eyebrows.

“I don’t want to hunt cryptids right now,” Sam said, rubbing his hands across his face and then through his hair. “I just want to get shit-faced drunk. I need to forget about what just happened.”

“Why, Samuel,” Rowena said with a sly look. “It’s nearly one in the morning.”

Sam shrugged and pushed himself to feet. “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he said, brushing past her to head to the kitchen. He knew they had alcohol somewhere in the shelves. He wished he could just spell himself drunk.

Richard was in the kitchen but immediately jumped out of the way when he noticed the look on Sam’s face. He didn’t even say anything, just ducked out of the room with his wings tucked in closer. Sam ignored him, going straight for the alcohol cupboard. He grabbed their biggest bottle of vodka, spelled to be extra strong.

When he turned around, he spotted Rowena standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him with a smile. Sam ignored her, struggling with the cap.

“You know,” Rowena said. “We could just go out.”

Sam looked up at her. “You’d do that for me?” he asked.

Rowena shrugged. “You want to drink away your problems, that’s fine with me,” she said. “Heaven knows we’ve done that before.” She snapped her fingers and in an instant, she and Sam were dressed in some of their best clothing.

She wore a red, backless dress that ended mid-thigh. Spider web fishnet leggings wrapped her legs, and she balanced precariously on black buckle-up stiletto boots. With another snap, her hair was transformed into loose curls that tumbled down her shoulders, giving only brief, teasing flashes of her skin.

Sam’s outfit changed from his jeans and flannel to tight black skinny jeans. A transparent, red muslin skirt draped over that, flowing around his things and knees. His top was a lacey thing he had only wore a couple times before but apparently Rowena decided that tonight was the night to wear it again. Pale crème, cotton, softer than a normal t-shirt. The neckline dipped down, framing his collar bones with frills. His shoes were silver-buckled black hiking boots.

“Wow,” Sam said, twisting to see the entire outfit. “This actually looks . . . . really nice.”

Rowena twisted a strand of hair around one finger and smirked. “You doubt my sense of style, Samuel?” she said. With a laugh, she applied her makeup with another snap of her fingers, cat-eyed wings sharp enough to cut throats.

Sam returned her mischievous smile. “Not doubt,” he said, applying his own makeup. “I’m just more stylish.”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “Then me?” she said. “Now that’s a laugh.”

“Wanna get shit faced on this wonderful . . . um,” Sam struggled for a moment, forgetting where he was, date and time. “Saturday night? No, Sunday morning. Two o’clock? That’s sounds . . . . weird.”

“That’s why we’re getting shit-faced,” Rowena said, her clutch bag materializing in her hands and her golden credit card in the other. “Ready?”

Sam grinned. “Always.”

And just like that, the Bad Bitch Witches were back and just as wild as before. When Sam and Rowena strutted into that first bar, there were three people sitting in a booth near the back and the bartender looked bored out of his mind cleaning glasses with no customers. The music played lazily in the background, turned down because of the low traffic. Luckily, Sam and Rowena had both charmed their jewelry to draw in the biggest and loudest crowds.

In less than fifteen minutes, there were a dozen people at the bar, laughing and chatting and toasting drinks. Mostly high schoolers by the look of it, out late without their parent’s permission. They were the ones most drawn in by the spells. A couple minutes later, the college students showed up, the next ones pulled in by the spell. And lastly, the old drunks, the men who drank beer and beer only, the ones with guts hanging over their beltlines and beards that hung down to their belly buttons. Eldritch, almost, if it was okay to use that terminology when there were _actual_ eldritch beings who weren’t so low on society’s totem pole.

In no time at all, the place was buzzing.

And Sam and Rowena were at the center of it, accepting drinks bought for them by men and woman, boys and girls alike. Sam drank anything handed his way, clumsily spelling each clean of any sort of date rape drugs before downing them like a madman who spent decades in a desert.

Rowena was much more sophisticated, plying her own admirers to buy her glasses of the expensive wines off the top shelf. She sipped and swirled the dark liquids, laughing and kissing whoever was on her left when she needed a refill.

Sam was just about to order a green-tea-infused vodka sour which he had been meaning to try for a while, just never had someone to buy it for him, when he spotted the man across the room.

He was dark, from his clothes to his skin, like something out of the shadows. He was the kind of guy that seers talking about—tall and handsome and mysterious. And he was watching Sam with a certain twinkle in his eye, sipping his own, bright pink cocktail. It contrasted in his hands, which only made Sam want him more.

The man caught his staring and raised his drink in a toast, a small smile curving his lips.

“Oh, damn,” Sam breathed, having to catch himself on the bar as his knees went weak. “Oh. _Damn_.”

“See something you like?” a girl said, appearing out of nowhere on his right. She played with a strand of her dark hair, biting her lip as she gave him a once-over. “Or is there something else you want?”

Sam looked her over in return, taking in her tiny black dress and bright red platform heels. No tights or leggings, brave and feisty. Sam could tell. With her heels, she came up to his shoulders, but she went onto her tiptoes, pressing her chest to his, trying to win his attention.

“Come on,” she coaxed. “I’ve got things that will make you feel so good. Uppers, downers, whatever you need.”

Sam could be pretty stupid while drunk, but even he wasn’t dumb enough to mix up things like that. So he shook his head and politely declined. Plus, he wanted to get back to staring at the man. Who knew what could happen after a couple drinks this early in the morning.  

“I’m good,” he said, looking over the top of her head, trying to track down the man again. “I’m actually—”

“Hey,” a new voice said, coming from Sam’s right and making him turn.

It was the man.

“Busy,” Sam finished quietly, now staring the man straight in the eyes without the distance of the room between him.

The man smiled at him, flashing pristine white teeth that Sam could only _spell_ onto himself. And his eyes—god _damn_ his eyes—dark in the lowlight of the bar but probably hazel under the sun. They swam with something that Sam couldn’t quite put his finger on, magic or alcohol or something else. Whatever it was, Sam found himself being drawn in.

“Can I buy you a drink?” the man asked, already signaling to the bartender.

“Vodka sour,” Sam managed to get out while still staring at the beautiful man.

The man blinked and then smiled easily. “That’s my drink of choice,” he said. “Two vodka sours,” he told the bartender and then turned back to Sam. “My name is Max.”

“Max,” Sam repeated, loving the way the name cracked on his tongue. It took him a moment to compose himself enough to remember his manners. “I’m Sam.”

“Two vodka sours,” the bartender said, reappearing with their glasses. He passed them over them over the counter to Max who exchanged them for several bills, waving away the change. The bartender looked happy with the tip and gave them a nod and a smile before turning to serve the next customer.

“Here,” Max said, passing one of the drinks over to Sam. “To a night that’s young.”

Sam giggled before he realized what he was doing. And then he blushed and quickly took the drink, taking a gulp to keep his mouth from doing anything else stupid. Max only smiled at him, leaning casually on the counter, like Sam had done nothing stupid at all.

“I can’t believe this place is so busy this early in the morning,” Max commented, casually surveying the bar. “Usually it’s empty.”

“It’s nice though,” Sam said. “I guess I’m a fan of crowds.”

Max laughed like he had told an amazing joke, throwing his head back and dropping his mouth open. Sam got a good look at his bobbing Adam’s apple and swallowed for himself. And then Max seemed to drop the facade, resting a hand on Sam’s arm and leaning in close.

“What would you do if there wasn’t a crowd?” he said, his voice a low, tempting thrall.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat at the suggestion, and Max smiled at his slip up.

“Huh?” he went on. “What do you say you and I get out of here? Go do something by ourselves? I bet I could entertain you for quite a while.”

Sam was touching his face before he could think, having to touch this god-like human to make sure he was real and Sam wasn’t imagining something while he was thirty-odd drinks in. But nope. Max was real. Flesh and blood real. Sam felt his heart skip a beat.

“Maybe we could leave,” he said. “My place or yours?”

Max pressed a hand over Sam’s heart, pressing hard through the thin shirt. His eyes flashed with playfulness and maybe something else. Sam wasn’t quite coherent enough to catch exactly what. He was all caught up on Max’s eyes and his smile and his _touch_.

“How about yours?” Max said. “I’m not picky.”

“O-okay,” Sam said. He tipped back the rest of his drink in one go, watching Max quickly do the same.

Absentmindedly, Sam cast around for Rowena, finding her in the back of the bar. She had a man trapped in a corner and was occupying him with her lips and body. Sam hated to interrupted, but he and Rowena had a policy. One didn’t go home without telling the other.

_Gotta man,_ he told her drunkenly. _Gotta leave. Our place._

_Want me to stay out?_ Rowena immediately answered, sounding much more sober than he was. _Because I’m fine staying here. I’ve got my own entertainment_.

_Nah, come home whenever,_ Sam said, grinning as Max tugged him toward the door. _We’ll be busy no matter what._

He and Max were kissing as soon as they were outside, mouth crashing clumsily together. They were grabbing at each other too, touching the other’s chest and arms. Sam smiled when he felt Max’s hands on his ass.

“I’m not far,” he said, already pushing them in the direction of his house. “We can wait.”

Max threaded their hands together. “Perfect,” he said.

Sam was too busy getting lost in his eyes and had to agree. Max was perfect. This night, despite getting nearly gored to death by a cryptid feline, was turning into perfect.

He let himself relax against Max’s touch and by the time they got back to his house, Sam was no longer even thinking about his cryptid problems and how he was supposed to solve those problems. He was too busy thinking about Max and stripping off his clothes.

He was way too busy kissing Max and moaning about how beautiful he was. He was too busy roaming Max’s body with his hand, discovering the places that would make the man gasp and moan back. He was way too distracted when Max did the same to him, flipping on top of him in the bed and leaning over him, hands planted on his chest, pinning him but playfully.

Sam was way too distracted and maybe more than a little drunk to feel the subtle pull on his magic as Max kissed him. How could he focus on something so trivial as his power leaving him when Max’s hands were down his pants? So, honestly, Sam didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c


	5. Sighting #5

Sam woke up the next morning with a headache like none other. It pounded right behind his eyes, making him wince every time he even moved. He groaned and groped around for the hangover powder he and Rowena usually kept within reach of anywhere.

That’s when he felt the empty sheets around him and the events of last night—or early morning?—came rushing back to him. He sat up, which was a huge mistake, and nearly doubled over from the pain.

“Fu-uck,” he groaned and muttered a search-and-find spell.

A moment later, a pouch of the hangover powder came floating through the open doorway of his room, landing perfectly in his lap. Sam quickly opening it and pulled out a pinch, snorting it and sighing in relief. But there was still something nagging at the back of his mind.

While his hangover headache and blurry vision had receded, there was still a hole in his stomach, like he was hungry. But he wasn’t hungry. He didn’t feel like eating. At least, he didn’t feel like eating _food_. He felt like eating something because it felt like something was missing, something that he was supposed to eat.

_Rowena?_ he called out in his mind, trying to connect with the other half of his coven. The action made a sharp pain shoot through his stomach, like he had just run a marathon without breathing correctly. Shit, maybe he should just get up and find her.

And find her he did. She was in the kitchen, sipping grape juice out of a wine glass and eating a slice of plain wheat toast. Dark sunglasses covered her eyes and she wore an old t-shirt of Sam’s with no pants. She looked just as hungover as he had felt.

“Oh, Samuel,” she said as soon as he walked into the room. “I was wondering when you’d get up.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Sam asked, heading straight for the coffee machine and pouring himself two mugs of plain black coffee, one for each hand.

Rowena frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I called out to you mentally,” Sam said. “Did you not hear?”

Rowena paused to take a sip of her grape juice and then nibbled on her toast. “How long ago was this?” she asked.

Now it was Sam’s turn to frown. “Like, three minutes ago!” he said. “In bed.”

Rowena shook her head. “No, I didn’t hear,” she said. “Strange, very strange.”

Before Sam could remark that it was definitely more than just strange, Richard entered the room in a flounce, his feathers on his head and shoulders sticking out every which way. He was wearing a rag-tag sweater with holes in several places and sleeves both short and large enough to accommodate his wings. He had a sleeping mask propped on his forehead to complete his entire, sleepless look.

“Give me that,” he said, marching right up to Sam and snatching away one of his mugs of coffee. He downed it in one go, slamming the mug on the counter before spinning around to face the room. “Where is food?” he demanded.

Rowena pointed to the bread box, the most reliable way to get carbs—which, honestly, what else did you need?—in the house.

Richard wasted no time, opening the box, shoving two slices of whole wheat into the toaster and then turning back to the room, standing with his beak in the air and not acknowledging anyone else in the room.

Sam looked to Rowena and raised an eyebrow. Rowena shrugged.

“Um, hello?” Sam tried. “Good morning, Richard.”

Richard huffed dramatically and crossed his wings. “I’m not speaking to either of you at the moment,” he said. “We are _no longer_ on speaking terms.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam said, not understanding why Richard was so angry.

“Last night!” Richard exclaimed. “I mean, this morning, _whatever_! I thought you guys were leaving to hunt the cryptid! So I dressed up and went out too, and I couldn’t find you anywhere! And I flew and flew and flew and I couldn’t find you guys so I went looking for the cryptid instead. I was fucking _worried_ , okay?! And then I come home exhausted and what do I find? I find you, passed out in bed with some one-night, two-cent whore hookup!!”

The toaster dinged and Richard’s toast popped up.

There was a long moment of silence while Richard stared at them, and Rowena and Sam awkwardly avoided eye contact. And then Richard snatched up his toast, shoving one whole into his mouth and swallowing.

“So I am not on speaking terms with either of you two,” he said, pointing at them each with his second slice of toast. “Because that was frankly very rude to make me worry and not invite me to go out drinking with you.”

He stuffed the second slice of toast into his mouth, swallowed, and then stomped to the doorway back into the living room. He paused and glanced over his shoulder, staring at Sam's feet instead of his face.

“Your outfit was very cute last night,” he mumbled. “And your two-cent whore was cute too. That is all.”

And then he stomped out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the second bathroom that wasn't being occupied by Champ. The door slammed and a moment later the water turned on.

“Didn't think he would be that pissy about it,” Rowena said.

“We were only out for a couple hours, right?” Sam said.

Rowena shrugged. “That's what I thought,” she said.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Sam said honestly. Richard was a little much to deal with at times but Sam didn’t really hate him. He could be nice, and if his fashion sense said anything, he definitely had the same opinions as he and Rowena.

“I think he’ll be fine after a hot shower,” Rowena said. “Plus, our shampoo is charmed to be relaxers. He’ll come out of there as friendly as a wee puppy.”

Sam hoped so. Richard was dramatic enough on his own. An Angry Richard, especially if he was angry at them, would be dozens of times worse.

“So,” Sam said. “Did you find anyone to go home with last night?”

“Home?” Rowena said. “My bedroom is my sanctuary and no one is allowed inside.” She took a sip of her grape juice and then smiled. “However,” she said. “I did allow a fine gentleman to buy me several drinks at the bar last night.”

Sam nodded. “Nice.”

“And,” Rowena continued with a sly smile. “I let him conveniently deposit a couple thousand dollars into an account of mine.” She put on an obviously fake English accent, so cockney it made Sam wince. “I’m off to art school in the states, ya see. Dancing on Broadway is mah dream and I just got to get there.”

Sam laughed. “Damn, that story is a hundred years old!” he said. “I can’t believe he fell for it!”

Rowena looked smug, preening as she nibbled delicately at her toast. “They always do after a couple beers,” she said. “Same as always.” She took a drink of her grape juice. “You had a good night by the sounds of it.”

Sam frowned. “Sounds?” he said.

Rowena nodded. “Came back here and nearly shat myself from all the pounding. You really need to study up on your soundproofing spells, dear.”

Not that Sam was particularly embarrassed, but he did feel stupid for not thinking of that kind of spell. Even drunk, he was usually competent enough in his spell work to thinking clearly. He shrugged off the mistake, chalking it up to being distracted by his take-home date and all the alcohol.

“Well, it was fun,” Sam said. “But we aren’t any closer to finding the cryptid.”

“At least Richard was looking for a little bit,” Rowena said. “If he had an aerial view the entire time, then we know our beasties are good at hiding. Even in the cover of night, there’s not much that can be missed from the sky.”

She spoke as if she had experience in flying.

“Well, that’s good to know,” Sam said. “Cats that are good at hiding.”

Before he could go on, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Sam frowned and pulled it out, spelling it up to one hundred percent when he noticed it was nearly dead. He had a text message from a number he didn’t recognize but had been saved in his contacts under “Dark Chocolate” with several heart emojis and an eggplant.

“Hey, handsome,” it read. “I had a great night.”

Sam frowned. Last night’s one night stand was supposed to be just that—a one night stand. Sam didn’t want a relationship, especially with a mortal that would age and grow and die without him. Definitely not something he wanted. He swiped open his phone and opened the chat.

“You from last night?” he texted.

Three dots popped up almost immediately, bouncing for a moment before another message from the mystery person popped up. Well, they weren’t much of a mystery, but Sam couldn’t remember the man’s name and his face was a blur of alcohol and bad choices.

“You’re so smart.” There was a smiley face. “Miss me already??”

How was Sam supposed to say that, no, he didn’t and that he had just wanted sex with no strings attached, not some rando’s number in his phone saved under a mystery name.

“Who’s that?” Rowena asked.

“Nobody,” Sam said quickly, he typed without looking up at her.

“Not really, I’m a busy guy.” No emojis, he was giving this man nothing. No teasing texts, no foreplay, no nothing.

“Busy with other guys or busy thinking about me?” Another smiley face, this time winking.

“No.” Flat. Dull. Sam wasn’t budging.

A response came several moments later, no emojis and perfect grammar and spelling. “Well then, don’t get your panties in a twist,” it read. “Just know that you can always text me for a good time.”

“Seems like a lot of texting for nothing,” Rowena said. “You’re _sure_ it’s just that?”

Sam frowned, silencing his phone and stuffing it back in his pocket. “Yes, I’m sure,” he said. “Some mortal dropped his number in my phone, thinks I want something long term.” He shrugged. “I’ll just blow him off until he realizes I’m not interested.”

Rowena nodded but still looked far too serious. “Never involve yourself with a mortal, Samuel,” she said, the joking tone leaving her voice. “They hold nothing but heartbreak for us. You can’t have a mortal and they can’t have you. That’s why witches form covens.”

“I know, I know,” Sam said. He had heard the same lecture when he had first become a witch and he heard it nearly once a decade from Rowena, the same spiel over and over again.

Don’t fall in love with a mortal, Samuel. Mortals will just break your heart. They are far too delicate for witch’s work. They age far too fast and die far too young. Never fall in love with a mortal because time will take them and leave you there all alone.

Witches covens were made to satisfy a witch’s need for companionship. Some witches even went so far as to get familiars or animals that were spelled to live as long as they did. Spelling an animal to stay alive was a simple matter. Spelling a human to stay alive was different. Stuff like the soul got in the way, Sam supposed. So while falling in love with a non-witch mortal would only end in heartbreak, witches were free—and encouraged—to fall in love inside their coven.

Sam’s coven was just Rowena. He had always thought that would be enough.

He itched to take out his phone and check if there were any text messages from the mystery number. He fought back the urge. If he couldn’t even remember the man’s name, then he had no reason to be interested in pursuing anything further than what had already happened.

“Good,” Rowena said. “I won’t be making myself a loner just because you’ve got your eye of some pretty mortal. And I won’t be casting no spelling to break your bloody enchantment.”

“I said I’m fine,” Sam insisted. “Really, Rowena, it’s nothing. I swear.” He finished of what was left of his second cup of black coffee. “I’m focusing on this cryptid case and nothing else. Once we catch whatever that thing is, I’ll have time for romance. But I swear, my attention is on this case and nothing else.”

Rowena nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer.

“That’s good,” she said. “I’ve had witches bail on me before, Samuel, for the hearts of mortals. I don’t want to see you make the same mistake.”

Sam wasn’t entirely sure how much of a ‘mistake’ it was but wasn’t about to argue the point. Jimmy and Benji wandered into the kitchen wearing only t-shirts and nothing else. They looked refreshed from getting their appropriate sleep and not drinking both the night and morning away like the rest of them had.

“What's up?” Benji asked, jumping into the counter and somehow doing it gracefully.

“Any sign of the cryptid past night?” Jimmy said, joining his brother on the counter with just as much grace.

Before either Sam or Rowena could answer, Richard burst back into the kitchen, this time with a towel wrapped around his head and another wrapped around his body. His wings were still dripping wet, leaving a trail of water behind him as he walked. He also had a face mask resting over the feathers of his face with a place jabbed through for his beak.

“Sam slept with a whore,” he declared. “Rowena drank her body weight in tequila. _I_ searched diligently for the cryptid and found nothing. _That's_ what happened.”

“Oh damn!” Benji said, not catching onto Richard's still-spiteful tone. “We missed alcohol?!”

“And girls?!” Jimmy added.

“Everything good always happens at night,” Benji grumbled. “Stupid photosynthesis.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that but didn't remark. “We had no luck finding the cryptid at night,” he said. “So we were going to try looking during the day.” He looked up at Rowena, practically begging her with his eyes.

“That’s right,” Rowena said quickly, catching on to his idea. “So you two, Champ, and Samuel and I will see if we have any better luck out in the sun.” She finished the last of her grape juice in one easy swallow and set the glass aside. “The moon hides things,” she said absentmindedly. “And I need pants.”

She was walking out of the kitchen before anyone else could say anything.

“Is the tension tight in here, or is it just me?” Jimmy said with a smirk.

“I think it’s just you,” Benji said, giving his brother a kick. “Because I’m fucking loose.”

Sam rolled his eyes and quickly retreated after Rowena, heading to his room to get ready. He wasn’t about to get stuck in a room with two dude bros, even if they were Fresno nightcrawlers. Instead, he decided he would check up on Champ, see how she was doing. He should get ready for the day because it would be a long one of searching for the mysterious, feline cryptids.

Instead, the moment he was in the privacy of his own bedroom, he pulled out his phone, feeling his heart skip a beat when he noticed another text message from Dark Chocolate. He swallowed thickly and thumbed in his password, opening the message.

“Just tell me when you need me,” was all it said. And directly under that was a picture of a stomach—no, it was mostly of a crotch. Kind of. It was skewed off to one side, showing to shadowed line of a hip bone wrapped in white lace material. Panties.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat.

As if reading that he was there, three dots popped up, bouncing for a moment before another message appeared.

“I’m always ready.”

Sam swallowed and quickly exited the chat, shoving his phone into his pocket. He had to focus. He had to concentrate. Like Rowena said, he couldn’t get attached to one mortal. They had a cryptid to catch and after that, they had a decade to drink themselves into oblivion.


	6. Sighting #6

“Are you listening to me, Witch Samuel?” Champ said, her voice coming through the headset hanging from the rear view mirror. The volume was cranked all the way up and spell enhanced just to make sure it worked like a speaker phone.

Sam was jostled out of his train of thought and he snapped upright. And then he realized where he was—sitting in the passenger seat while Rowena checked a magical trap she had put out—and he relaxed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I must've dozed off. What's up?”

“I was just explaining a bit more about familiars,” Champ said cheerily. “While not strictly cryptic in nature, they are labeled with the cryptid status and are treated as thus. If a stray familiar is found, it is usually relocated into a witch coven to try to find a match that fits. Familiars need magic to live so feral familiars are often hunted down and killed.”

Sam swallowed, thinking about the dark skinned hip clad in white panties, the crotch straining. “Killed?” he repeated.

“That’s right,” Champ went on. “The people mean well, because feral familiars do tend to kill without discretion. But it ends up being a lot of unneeded deaths on both parties.”

“So this is a feral familiar?” Sam said.

“Maybe not feral,” Champ said. “Maybe not yet. The familiar has killed, yes, but it can still be saved. There are dozens of stories out there of rehabilitated familiars. If we can match it up with a witch that will supply it with a steady dose of magic to ingest, then the familiar will recover.”

“Recover,” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. Like it was therapy or something.

His phone buzzed in his head, drawing his attention away from his and Champ’s conversation. He glanced down, knowing immediately what—and who—it was. And sure enough, he had a text notification from Dark Chocolate and goddamn did his heart skip a beat. Quickly, he thumbed in his password and opened the conversation.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” the message read. “When are we meeting up again?”

Sam swallowed sharply, unable to stop his heart from kicking up a notch. Quickly, he typed out his response, glad that he was alone so that Rowena wouldn’t question who he was texting.

“When do you want to meet?” he sent. If he couldn’t tell this guy that he wasn’t interested, then he would show him, publically. _Very_ publically if need be.

His response was almost instantaneous, as if the person he had been texting had had the chat open just waiting for him to reply. The tiny bubbles only bounced a couple times before they disappeared. There was a pause, and then they reappeared.

“You busy tonight?” the text read.

Sam replied just as quick. “I shouldn’t be.”

“What’s your favorite bar?” Dark Chocolate asked.

Sam smirked. If this guy wanted to get him drunk for a repeat of before, Sam wasn’t falling for it. After a quick moment of thought, he typed his answer.

“I’m a classy girl, buy me dinner at Denny’s and we’ll see where things go.”

This time, Dark Chocolate took a little bit longer to answer. The dots didn’t even appear, but he had read the message. Sam stared down at his phone, waiting for the cheeky acceptance or the teasing rejection. It was almost agonizing, having to wait. And then his phone buzzed.

“You’re such a tease,” with a heart-eyes emoji. “Alright, I’ll meet you at 8.”

Sam didn’t get a chance to response, because Rowena hovered out of the forest, flipping through a thick wad of sigil paper and muttering to herself. She levitated like a pro all the way until the sidewalk before stepping down onto the safe concrete. She walked the rest of the way to the car.

“Champ, are you there?” she asked as she slid into the driver’s seat.

Not that she had any intention of driving. She slapped a spell tag onto the wheel and relaxed as the car hummed to life and pulled out into traffic on its own.

“Of course, Witch Rowena,” Champ said. “Always here and ready.”

“I want you to contact the top ten nearest covens,” Rowena said, still flipping through sigil papers. “To see if they have reported any missing familiars. Or if they’ve sighted the beastie we’re hunting.”

“Good idea,” Champ said. “I’ll get on that right away.” The line clicked, and Sam took a wild guess that she was gone, hung up.

“And you,” Rowena said, finally putting the sigils away and turning to Sam. “You need a nap and a bottle of wine, I think, to get you in the right head.”

“I’m already in my right head,” Sam said, not understand what she was referring too. Usually, he was pretty good at hiding his feelings.

“You forget, dear,” Rowena said. “That I am in your head too.” She tapped her temple with one long red nail. “Coven, remember?”

Sam frowned. “I thought we agreed the emotions were off limits,” he said. “Because then I would talk to you about drinking wine at four in the morning and looking up immortality spells while thinking about your late third husband.”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “Late _second_ husband,” she corrected. “I’m not that much of a hopeless romantic.”

“Did the trap reveal anything?” Sam asked, glad that the subject had been successfully changed. “Or any clues?”

“None,” Rowena said with a curl of her lip. “The beasties just gobbled my magic and left everything in tatters.” She held up the thick bundle of sigil papers and flapped them. “But I’ll be able to reconstruct an image with these. So we’ll have that to go on.”

Sam shuddered at the memory of the strange three-eyed cat-like creatures. “That sounds good,” he said. “I mean, sometimes people have seen stuff. We could put up posters around town to see if we can get any new information.”

There was a sudden thud on top of the car, and Rowena looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Now who do you suppose that was?” she said, not reversing the spell on the car, meaning that it didn't slow down at all.

“Turn off the car!!” a familiar voice yelled, black talons appearing in Sam's window to grip the frame. “Roll down a window!!”

“I guess you'd better let him in,” Rowena said, once again doing nothing to modify the self-driving spell.

With no other choice, Sam rolled down his window and slid his seat back, hoping that Richard had enough room to climb in. Even if it wasn't, Richard was already swinging himself in, using momentum and his wonderful aerodynamic shape to slip through the space. He landed in Sam's lap, a bundle of feathers and talons, thrashing and trying to right himself. He was panting from exertion and an otherwise unkempt mess. That didn't stop him from giving Sam a side-eye and clicking his tongue.

“I’m gay, but I’m not _that_ gay,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Sam said halfheartedly. With one giant heft, he heaved Richard over the middle console and into the back seat. Richard squawked indignantly and had to rearrange himself once again. He huffed and stuck his beak in the air.

“Rude,” he said.

“Gay,” Sam retorted.

“ _Boys_!” Rowena said sternly. “Please concentrate for at least three seconds.”

“Jimmy and Benji are making a music video,” Richard blurted suddenly from the backseat. “500 Miles by the Proclaimers. Trashy cryptids and trashy music taste if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked you,” Sam mumbled, looking out his window with a scowl.

“I thought they were supposed to be canvasing the wooded area where Sam was attacked,” Rowena said.

“Yeah, and I thought I was straight for three hundred years,” Richard said, combing down his feathers so he looked a bit more put together. “They keep saying they’ll go viral or something. I don’t know. I’m done with trying to convince them to take it seriously.” He huffed and crossed his wings. “That can be _your_ job from now on.”

“I’ll just go check myself,” Sam said. He grabbed the witching bag that he and Rowena always kept in the car and pulled out the first thing he felt.

Technically, everything in the bag could be used to cast spells, some needing more skill than others. Sam had pulled out twin columns of malachite, perfect devices for safe fast-travel. They had already spent hours on Sam’s window sill, soaking up the rain and moonlight in order to be effective and powerful tools. Sam could feel them hum in his hand, practically thrumming with kinetic energy demanding to be released.

“Samuel, please,” Rowena said, reaching across the seats to put a hand on his knee. “Don’t run off now.”

“I’m not running,” Sam said. “I’m just going to check the areas that Jimmy and Benji aren’t.”

He shifted the crystals so that he had one in each hand and placed them on either side of his lap. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, centering himself and filling his mind with a picture of the place he wanted to travel.

_Don’t leave angry,_ Rowena spoke into his mind right before he felt his physical form dissolve and his self leave the vehicle completely.

Sam manifested exactly where he pictured—right outside the half-destroyed fairy circle where he had been attacked. Or protected. He wasn’t quite sure. Rowena’s words were still echoing in his mind but he shook them off. He hadn’t left angry. If anything, he had left annoyed. He shook off the guilt anyway, pocketing the malachite and going through his pockets to see what other spell components he had.

After going through all his magical and non-magical pockets, Sam unearthed a slightly used dosing rod, three different mirrors—one of which was a makeup compact, scraps of sigil paper, a wax pencil, and a charcoal fragment. And those were just his magically incline items. He also found three pieces of caramel candy, his cell phone—obviously, two hair ties, and a napkin from the last time he had McDonalds.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time he had McDonalds.

He unwrapped one of the caramels and popped it in his mouth, stuffing all the items back into their designated pockets. He kept the sigil papers and the wax pencil out and bent over, spreading the paper as flat as he could get it on his knee.

There were a couple sigils he could use, but Sam had a specific one in mind.

It was designed to search wide areas for single items. Sam and Rowena used it most often to find lost makeup, hair brushes, or spell components in their house, but with a little modification, Sam could use it to search the entire forest. In a couple moments, he had it scribbled on the piece of paper and he tucked the pencil back behind his ear. He chewed what was left of his candy, getting annoying bits stuck on his teeth, and then held the sigil up in the air so that it caught the sun.

“Search for me, please,” he said, only being polite because magic tended to be fickle, and started to funnel his energy into the lines on the paper.

The sigil activated like any normal spell. There was a small moment where the lines buzzed with light, then a small pop, and then the yank on Sam’s energy as the spell broke out across the forest. Sam took a steadying breath before the information began pouring into his mind, buzzing through and cataloguing itself faster than he could think.

The number of plants, the different types of insects, the amount of mineral in the soil, and the amount of water in the atmosphere. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head and his entire body convulsed. The wildlife and every emotion they were feeling flooded into his mind. He died with a hundred mice and lived with a hundred foxes. He tasted sweet nectar and then hot, salty blood. He had to manually pull himself back to his own body, and he gasped at being restricted to two arms and two legs so suddenly.

But out of all the information that had poured into him, there was no sign of the familiar. Either it had slipped under his magical search or it was no longer in the forest. Both were infuriating possibilities. Sam sighed and took a moment to collect himself.

He realized he was on his knees, the paper with the sigil on it laying almost a foot away from him. His muscles were sore, like he had run a marathon yesterday with no training and his mind was still racing from the experience.

Sam grunted as he pushed himself to his feet and his muscles protested. He would definitely need some sort of spa treatment before tonight or else he would be a horrible date-mate.

With the new revelation that the familiar wasn’t in the forest, he set off on the walk home. He didn’t want to stress his body out even more by another malachite travel. Besides, the day was nice enough out that a walk would do him good.

Rowena would be grateful to hear that he had successfully search, even though he didn’t find anything. It narrowed their search at least and that was good.

Sam groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, already thinking of spells that were short enough to cast before he meant his mysterious lover at 8.

 


	7. Sighting #7

Sam dressed like any other normal human would dress when going to Denny’s at 8 P.M. He wore a body harness, a white holographic skirt, a mesh shirt, and heels. Just something normal. After spending four hours spelling every relaxation chant he knew into his body and then another hours soaking in a tub with magicked bath soap, he was finally ready for his date.

Wait. No. He wasn’t calling this a date.

This was a public dumping. He was dumping this guy that he had never even dated and he was going to do it in front of every Denny’s employee that was working. Yeah, that would show him. And then he’d never bother Sam ever again.

Sam checked his phone for any messages, but there were none.

Was he disappointed? ~~Yes~~ NO. Sam was _not_ disappointed.

“Going somewhere?” Richard asked.

He was sitting in the living room and Sam had to walk by him in order to get out the front door. He was lounging on the couch with his talons up and a cucumber mask on his face. He wore a maroon, velvet bathrobe with no sleeves and a neckline that plunged to his stomach. When Sam hurried past towards the front door, he had lifted one talon and lifted a cucumber slice off of one eye.

“Nowhere that concerns you,” Sam said, really not wanting to discuss his date plans with fucking Mothman.

Richard only shrugged and replaced the cucumber on his eye, leaning back so that it stayed in place. “No place really concerns me,” he said. “But here I am. Alive. Concerned.”

He sounded too ominous and sad that Sam paused for a moment. But only for a moment. And then he pulled out his sunglasses, snapped them open, and slid them on.

“I’m going to Denny’s,” he said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Jimmy and Benji are passed out on the roof, and Champ is napping in the bathtub,” Richard said. “And I finally have some peace and quiet. I’m not moving for anything.”

Sam had to smile at that sort of attitude. If Richard were a witch, he would be the perfect addition to his and Rowena’s coven, even if he did get on Sam’s nerves every now and then.

“If Rowena asks,” he said. “Tell her I’m out looking for the cryptid.”

“Whatever,” Richard said with a flap of his talons.

Sam wasn’t about to take Rowena’s car to Denny’s and the malachite stones were recharging from their last use, so he was stuck doing the next best thing.

Shadow-Walking.

It was a skill that few witches possessed, honestly, and it often took years before a witch could do it safely enough to use it on a week-to-week basis. Sam had dedicated an entire year to studying the practice, living secluded in the words and surviving off of flower nectar and honey alone. Rowena had understood that he had needed the time alone and spent that year scamming some high-end business man in Russia for all his money.

It was Halloween, the night of a marvelous full moon, that Sam had first successfully stepped into the shadows at one end of the forest and stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the forest. By Christmas, he was able to dive into shadows on any given whim and travel wherever he wanted to go.

Now, Sam opened up the front door and, using the triangle of shadow the appeared behind it, shadow-walked out the door. Well, not _out_ the door, but out of the house.

And he walked into the alleyway behind Denny’s.

Sam took a moment to brush the dust and otherwise unmentionables off his clothes and then checked his watch.

He was right on time. He double checked his makeup one last time and then he stepped out of the alleyway and in front of the Denny’s. From this angle, he could look through the wide glass windows into the dining area of the restaurant.

It was empty this late at night. Well, almost empty. The staff was all up front. One young man stood behind the register, looking absolutely bored out of his mind. An older woman, Sam was going to guess the manager, stood off to another side, cleaning down some machine in preparation for closing time. In the back, where the sandwiches and such were assembled, were two others that Sam couldn’t quite identify but weren’t too important.

When Sam walked through the front doors of the Denny’s and the bell chimed, he realized his mistake from outside—the restaurant wasn’t empty. There was one person sitting in a booth in the far right corner. And now that Sam saw him, he realized that he recognized the man.

He was just as dark as the first time Sam saw him—black skinny jeans with ripped thighs, a black crop top with a pentagon right over the heart, and high top Converse with soles so white they were startling. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, his eyes twinkled hazel and mischievous. He stood as soon as Sam made eye contact and smiled.

Damn. Sam definitely knew when he had saved his name as Dark Chocolate. The man looked both sweet and dangerous, and just looking at him, Sam was both scared _and_ horny.

“Sam,” the man said, taking a step in his direction. “I was hoping you'd show up.”

Damn. _Damnit!!_ Now Sam was distracted. What was he here to do? Seduce Dark Chocolate? Yeah, that sounded like a plan. The V of his hips was just too tempting.

“Hey,” he said. “Did you, uh, order food already?”

Dark Chocolate was walking closer now, hips swaying with each step. He stopped right in front of Sam, almost chest to chest, and smiled.

“I haven’t,” he said. “Do you wanna order something for me?”

Sam swallowed heavily and found himself nodding. “Sure,” he said and then had enough sense to ask, “You don’t mind eating meat, do you?”

Dark Chocolate smirked. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ so hard that Sam almost felt his knees give out.  

Quickly, he turned and made his way back to the counter, distracting himself with the menu. It only took him a couple moments before he decided and then he stepped up. The high school behind the register seemed glad to have something to do at least. Sam quickly ordered two different sandwiches in meals, substituting shakes for soda. Chocolate reminded him too much of who he was eating with and vanilla would remind him too much of something else.

Sam chose strawberry instead.

He paid quickly, even slipping the kid an enchanted quarter to bring him a bit more luck. As a high schooler with a job at Denny’s, working this late, he could probably use whatever he could get.

The woman working next to him, the manager, delivered Sam’s food after a couple minutes, and Sam carried the whole tray back to the booth where Dark Chocolate was waiting.

He had draped himself across the booth, arms spread wide and legs crossed at the knee. It was a mixed invitation that sent all sorts of mixed messages to Sam’s brain. Sam satisfied himself with staring at his shirt instead, the way it stretched and strained over the muscles, molding to the contours and leaving little to the imagination.

Sam swallowed deeply and sat down, shoving the tray over in front of Dark Chocolate. Damn, he should really get a name.

“So,” Dark Chocolate said, grabbing one of the burgers off the tray and unwrapping it. “You’re the one who set up the date. What’s up?”

Date. Date? Oh yeah, Sam was going to dump him. Publically.

He glance around the Denny’s, seeing all the empty seats and the empty parking lot. Even the workers behind the counter had disappeared into the back, probably to clean something and get ready for closing.

How public was an empty Denny’s?

Not very public.

Sam sighed and grabbed his own burger. Dammit, he should have gotten a salad. He wasn’t mentally prepared for the death of an animal to be weighing on his mind so late at night. Was it too late to steal all the fries?

Dark Chocolate took a huge bite of his own burger, thankfully chewing with his mouth closed. “Hello?” he said. “Earth to Sam? Or do you always dissociate on the first date?”

Sam gave him a look. “I’m fine,” he said, offering his burger. “Do you want both? I’ll eat the fries.”

Dark Chocolate set down his own burger and reached over to grab Sam’s. Their fingers brushed, and Sam felt a zing, like static electricity, travel up his arm. He flinched without meaning to, snatching his hand away from the burger. Dark Chocolate gave him an odd look.

“If I’m that disgusting, you should just tell me,” he said. “No need to play cat and mouse.”

Cat and mouse? Was Sam the cat or was he the mouse? Before he had the chance to think that through further, Dark Chocolate was grabbing his hand.

“You seem really out of it, are you okay?” he asked.

It would have been nice and sentimental. Sam could have swooned. A beautiful man holding his hand and asking if he was okay? A beautiful man in touch with his feelings and also on a date with him? It seemed too good to be true. It _was_ too good to be true. The beautiful man was holding a burger in his other hand, holding it almost as tightly as he was holding Sam’s hand.

“I’m fine,” Sam said. With his free hand he grabbed some fries and stuffed them into his mouth. He washed it down with strawberry shake, grateful to have the opportunity to stall for a moment and pull himself together.

Dark Chocolate was looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to go on.

“It’s just,” Sam said. “You’re really pretty, and I never really expected myself to be on a date with someone as pretty as you. I’m just . . . a little star struck I guess.”

Dark Chocolate smiled. He had been smiling halfway through Sam’s sentence. He took a huge bite of his burger, chewing quickly and swallowing before going back to smiling. He still hadn’t put down the burger though.

“You’re really pretty too,” he said. “Gorgeous. Breathtaking. I can’t believe you asked me out on a date.” He smirked. “Choosing me out of a bar of pretty people.”

Sam smiled, feeling his cheeks go hot. “You were the only pretty person at that bar,” he said. “There was no one else to choose from.”

Dark Chocolate scoffed. “ _Only_? You’re not counting yourself, right?”

Sam rolled his eyes at the blatant attempt to seduce. However, his inner witch loved it. His inner witch perked up at the idea of someone challenging him, of someone contradicting him, of someone pushing him. Of someone being just as uncontrollable as he was.

Curse his inner witch.

“I must be horribly uninteresting,” Dark Chocolate said, taking another bite of burger. It was almost gone at this point. “Since you keep zoning out.”

“I'm sorry,” Sam said, embarrassed that he couldn't keep his mind straight and frustrated that he was still easy distracted. “I didn't mean to—”

Dark Chocolate stuffed the remainder of the burger into his mouth, Sam's brain idly supplying that that shouldn't have fit. But then his brain was distracted as Dark Chocolate pushed himself up in his seat and somehow swung himself into Sam's lap. The table didn't give them much room, meaning their crotches were pressed together and Sam's lungs couldn't seem to catch up with his heart.

“Huh, baby?” Dark Chocolate crooned, leaning over him, clutching his face in his hands. “Why aren't you focused on me?”  

Sam was tingling again, his skin buzzing where Dark Chocolate touched him. It was exhilarating and breathtaking, draining in a way that Sam had never felt before. This was a whole new feeling, being in love. No one else in Sam’s entire life had made him feel like this before. No one else.   

“I _am_ focused on you,” Sam said, trying not to think of how close their bodies were and how far away the world seemed. “I’ve been focused on you ever since I walked in the room.” He reached up and grabbed Dark Chocolate’s face in his own hands. “There’s nothing else to focus on.”

“You’re such a tease,” Dark Chocolate purred, grinding down on Sam’s lap.

“And you’re nearly impossible to put up with,” Sam said, half telling the truth and half teasing. “And twice as hard to get a hold of.”

Dark Chocolate smirked, sitting back. “Hard?”

Sam blushed hot, regretting his choice of words.

Dark Chocolate reached into his back pocket and pulled out a gleaming silver flask. He propped the cap in between his teeth and somehow unscrewed it elegantly. He spat it off to the side before taking a huge swig, and Sam go a front row seat to watching his throat bob and clench as he swallowed.

And then Dark Chocolate was offering the flask to him, his mouth curling in a tempting smile.

Sam didn't even think to spell the drink clean. He took it and brought it to his mouth, tasting strawberry lip gloss first. That alone made his head swim. And then the alcohol hit his tongue, burning his throat and trickling down to his stomach, hot as acid. He had barely taken the flask away from his mouth and then Dark Chocolate was kissing him, chasing the alcohol with his tongue.

Sam moaned against him, the kiss seeming to speed the alcohol along faster than any sort of magic.

“Let’s get out of here,” Dark Chocolate said, mumbling the words against his lips.

Sam grinned, shifting the magic inside of him to pull the shadows under the table up and around them. They sunk into the blackness, and Sam had never felt more alive. He could somehow manipulate the shadows even easier than before and he pulled his way through the darkness, keeping a tight hold on Dark Chocolate, so that they couldn’t get separated.

Normally, the shadows bucked under Sam’s control, writhing beneath his hands and trying to twist free of his magic. Normally, Sam had to concentrate and normally, Sam would have to wrestle the shadows into submission.

But this time was different. With Dark Chocolate clutched to his chest and the alcohol burning on his tongue, Sam had no problem swimming through the shadows. He cut them apart with his magic, forcing them to carry and split and guide them exactly where they needed to go.

And they obeyed. The shadows swept underneath them, pushing them up and parting without hesitation. They seemed to cower before him, meekly slipping away and bending to his magic without the normal protesting.

In no time at all, Sam was spilling out of a shadow in the corner of his room. He landed on his bed, and Dark Chocolate landed on top of him. They were tangled together and Sam was starting to forget where he started and where he ended.

He clothes came off way too fast and Dark Chocolate was still on top him, pausing to pull his own shirt off. His muscles flexed, twisting cords beneath his skin. Sam tried to move, tried to reach up and touch him, but he was pinned too firmly.

Before the panic could set in, Dark Chocolate was looking down at him, a smile splitting his face. Sam was dimly away that his teeth were maybe too sharp and that mouth was too large.

But then they were kissing again, mouth to mouth. Sam felt like he was being pulled apart, buzzing with an electricity he had never felt before. It crackled on his skin, crawling through his mind, and Sam gasped as Dark Chocolate latched onto his neck, teeth digging into his skin. His hands were on Sam’s chest, on Sam’s ribs, on Sam’s stomach, on Sam’s face. His hands were everywhere and Sam couldn’t catch his breath in between kisses.

And Sam didn’t remember much after that.

 


	8. Sighting #8

When Sam woke up this time, he was a little more orientated. Kind of. His head was pounding and it took him only three seconds to realize that his arms are pinned to his sides and he couldn’t move. He was also naked, but Sam was used to that.

What he wasn’t used to was the huge, dripping shadow beast leering over him, its mouth cracked open to reveal fangs the size of dinner knives. Its hot breath, smelling like meat and rotten magic, washed over Sam as it huffed and leaned closer.

Sam grimaced as a glob of black goo dripped off the thing’s forehead and landed on his cheek.

Gross.

“Shit,” Sam spat, trying the wrench his arms free without pulling his arms out of socket.

And that’s when he realized the beast had four hands. It was kneeling over him, back legs straddling his knees. One pair of arms was holding his arms down at his sides. The other pair of arms was clutching the creatures head, clawing at the melting black skin that was practically dripping off its face.

When it noticed Sam was awake, it cackled, smiling down at him, and its mouth split open even further if that were possible. Its eyes gleamed green and as Sam watched, a third eye opened up on the creature’s forehead, forcing its way through the goop and grime.

“Why, hello, sweet thing,” it hissed, pink tongue darting out between its teeth. “I was hoping you’d wake up in time for my meal.”

“Oh, fuck,” Sam said. “Rowena!”

He called out with both his mind and his voice, thrashing against the weight that held him down. Panic was welling up in his chest, making his breath come in short gasps and his thoughts race. He had to get out. He had to get out!! He tried touching his magic, terrified when he couldn’t feel anything. He reached again, searching for any sort of power that usually rested in his stomach.

Nothing.

For the first time in a long time, Sam wasn’t scared. He was terrified.

The creature was still smiling down at him as if amused by his struggling. Twin, triangle ears rose up from the back of its head, perking up and then laying flat. It licked its lips, a good-sized chunk of goop sliding off its cheek and splattering against the pillow next to Sam’s head.

Sam gulped. “Rowena!” he yelled again. He was pretty sure that the beast had severed his mental link, so he didn't even bother trying that.

He felt abandoned, stuck, and all alone. Sam swallowed, fighting the tears starting to well up in his eyes. Now was definitely not the time for an emotional breakdown.

The creature leaned closer, cradling his face in its second pair of hands. Its mouth gaped wider and wider, splitting is face further and further until it was almost cut in half. Its pink tongue dragged across Sam's cheek, getting a taste of what its next meal would be.

And Sam decided right then and there that this was not going to be how he was going to die. Hell no! He was too good to be eaten! Maybe gored to death at the mercy of its claws and teeth, but definitely not eaten. Sam had to fight! And he had to do it quickly if he wanted to keep his head.

“Shem Hameforash!” Sam yelled, invoking the name of power over the beast.

And it worked. Surprisingly.  

The beast cringed back, snapping its mouth shut and coiling in on itself very much like a snake that had gotten stepped on. It hissed low and dangerous, ears laid flat on its head. All three of its eyes locked onto Sam, filled with so much malice that Sam gulped.

“Shem Hameforash!” he shouted again.

This time, the hands holding Sam down pulled away, shriveling back inside the creature’s body. Sam used the new-found freedom to reach up and dig his fingers into the creature's chest. To his surprise, the texture was more like fur than slime, and his hands sunk halfway into the surface. He didn't have time to waste.

With one hand, Sam traced a triangle on the beast’s chest, cresting it with an arch of power. He could feel his magic starting to bubble inside of him again, more free now that the beast wasn't holding him down.

“Evil Eye, I see you with my own,” he intoned, retracing the triangle and the arch. “Evil Eye, you cannot hide from me. Evil Eye, I see you and I mark you and I bind you to this world.”

The symbols were glowing now, reinforced by the tracing and open to the magic that Sam was pouring into it. The creature whined and hissed, trying to pull away but unable to tear itself away from Sam's grip. The magic now bound them together, and Sam wasn't going to let go until he had successfully defeated it.

“Show me,” Sam growled, dumping more power into the symbols. He added a final triangle, upside down, over the first one, completing the pentagram and then added another arch of power over the first.

And with that, he sent a wave of energy into the sigil, and the beast finally broke.

Kind of.

It reared back off of Sam, hissing so high pitched that Sam had to cover his ears. Its form shuddered and twisted, losing mass and dimensions until it crumpled to the ground still writhing and twisting like a snake. At least it died quietly.

Sam rolled quickly to his feet, glad to feel his magic returning in waves. He couldn’t spell his wounds closed but he was able to grab himself an outfit. He wasn’t messing around this time though. Heavy combat boots manifested on his feet, heavy jeans without any tears in the thighs, a tank top that was maybe a little tighter than it needed to be, and a thick flannel shirt. Only when he was good and decent, did Sam turn to address the remains of the creature on his floor.

And that’s what made him pause.

Because it no longer was a creature. In fact, there was no evidence that it had even been a creature in the first place except the rune that was still glowing on its chest.

And Sam couldn’t really call it an ‘it’ anymore either. Because it was a he. He as in the man that Sam had slept with and taken to Denny’s. He as in Dark Chocolate.

His sexy body was sprawled across the floor, naked at the day he was born. The rune glowed golden on his chest, still humming with Sam’s magic. His eyes were closed and his breathing was normal, which meant that Sam hadn’t done any permanent damage. He would survive.

Did Sam want him to survive?

Well, he certainly didn’t want him dead.

Sam stared down at Dark Chocolate’s prone body for a long moment, not really sure what to think. Damn, he never did get a name out of him. Still, it was rude to leave him on the floor naked, so Sam covered him with a blanket and put simple restraint spells on his wrists and ankles. Depending on how strong he was, it would either hold him well enough or do completely nothing.

With all that taken care of, Sam finally straightened and stumbled towards the door, exhausted from the drain on his magic and the whole ordeal of almost being eaten.

“Rowena!” he yelled, wondering where his coven-member had gone. Also wondering why she hadn’t come to assist him when he had called her to first time.

When he exited his room and saw the claw marks warding the room against invasion, he found his answer. He destroyed them with by striking his blood though the marks and a small bubble of energy, groaning at the further drain on his magic. But then he felt that familiar connection snap in his mind, and he could finally sense Rowena in the kitchen.

 _Help,_ was all he could manage to send.

She was at his side in a moment, slipping one of his arms around her slim shoulders and holding him up as his legs threatened to give out. Sam leaned on her but not too much. He was aware of his size, but he was also aware of how strong Rowena was.

“I'm here,” Rowena was saying, walking him away from his bedroom and towards the kitchen. “Easy, Samuel. I'll fix you up. Just stay awake for me, yes?”

“Bedroom,” Sam mumbled. “The familiar.”

“I'm sure you handled it,” Rowena said. They reached the kitchen and she plopped him down in a chair. “For now, let's get you back up on your feet.”

She set the kitchen into motion with a flurry of magic. Coffee brewed itself. Eggs floated out of the fridge to crack themselves open on the counter and into a pan that had slathered itself in butter. It didn't even cook on the stove. A fireball crackled to life and the pan hovered over that instead. Bread went down for toast, and juice was poured. Rowena did everything with a snap of her fingers and a single spell back, barely lifting a hand.

Instead, she fell to her knees in front of Sam, pulling a fist-size chunk of clear amethyst seemingly out of nowhere and set it in his lap. She moved his hands do that he was touching it and then patted his knuckles.

“You sit and recharge,” she said. “I'll deal with whatever is in your room.”

Before Sam could say anything, she was pushing herself to her feet and walking away from him. It only a couple minutes before a plate floated in front of Sam, holding eggs done three different ways, toast and jam, and slices of fresh apples. Three mugs of coffee floated next to that along with a knife, a fork, and a spoon.

Sam tried to grab the fork out of the air but it floated out of his reach. He sighed when he recognized the baby-sitting spell Rowena had used. The utensils, plates, and even the mugs wouldn’t let him touch them, no matter what Sam did. So he rested both hands back on the amethyst and resigned himself to being taken care of.

All the food was good, at least. Somehow made by magic in a matter of minutes, it was delicious. One of the best things Sam had eaten in a while. Peanut butter floated out of the cupboards so that the apple slices wouldn’t be plain, and french vanilla creamer dripped into the coffee until it was the perfect caramel color.

Sam drank it all up. He ate it all up. The amethyst warmed his hands or maybe his hands warmed the amethyst, Sam wasn’t quite sure. All he really knew was that his magic calmed in the presence of the stone, settling like an upset stomach after a plane ride, slowly refilling and slowly recovering.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. But it was only for a moment.

“You know I care very much about you, Samuel,” Rowena said, walking back into the kitchen without warning. “That is why we’re in a coven. And you know I don’t run my coven like a regular witch, and I normally don’t care what you do in your free time.”

Sam looked up, watching as Rowena took a seat across the table from him. She grabbed a mug from the air and the mug let her. She took a sip of the coffee and let the moment stretch. And then she continued.

“But I would like to know why there is a naked man in your room, bound to his body with a powerful sigil, and smelling like your magic has been soaked into his skin,” she said. She held up a single, manicured finger. “I won’t judge. But I am curious.”

“That’s the familiar,” Sam said, his strength recovered enough that he could think and talk straight. “The cryptid we’ve been hunting.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow.

“Look,” Sam said. “I know it sounds crazy, but I met him at a bar a while ago, after we took this stupid job. Maybe I slept with him, I don’t know, I didn’t think it would be more of a one-time thing. And then he started texting me—”

“Texting you?” Rowena said. “So that’s who was distracting you?”

Sam winced but nodded truthfully. “He wanted to meet up again, kept pushing for a date and everything, so I figured I would take him out and then dump him in public. Then he would get the message, you know?”

“So you dumped him?” Rowena said, looking unimpressed with his story so far.

Sam sighed and slumped his shoulders. “No,” he said. “I took him out to Denny’s last night and—Rowena, you have to believe me, he’s like a sexy god! The sexiest! I hate to admit it, but he seduced me! We came back here and—” Sam remembered the flask from last night. “Fuck! He must’ve drugged me!”

Rowena tsked and shook her head. “Samuel Winchester, you should know by now to spell your drinks clean,” she said. “But I can relate to falling for someone you shouldn’t.” She sighed and looked down at her mug, suddenly nostalgic and wistful. “But I guess after so many years you learn.”

“He was going to eat me,” Sam said, not sure what to make of her half-tale. “Well, eat my magic. I think he’s _been_ eating my magic. I bound him to his human form, but that’s about as far as my plan got.” He shrugged. “I have no idea what we do now.”

“Well,” Rowena said. “First of all, I'm definitely judging your choice of Denny's.”

“It was the best I could do at the time,” Sam grumbled.

“And second,” Rowena said, completely ignoring his comment. “I am definitely judging your choice in men.”

Sam almost spit out his mouthful of coffee. “What are you talking about?!” he said. “He's good looking! Sexy! I've slept with him . . .  one and a half times?” Did that second time count? Sam wasn't so sure.

“You sure know how to pick the dangerous ones,” Rowena said. “He's good looking. You just have a bad habit of picking out guys that could eat your ass.”

Sam frowned into his cup of coffee, angry that she was right. Did he really have such an obvious type? He really needed to switch it up. He hated being predictable. He pouted into his coffee, already planning his next hook-up to be completely different.

“However,” Rowena said, carrying on the conversation when Sam stayed silent. “We need to discuss what we will do with him now that we have the beastie where we want it. And I'd rather we do it before Richard or Champ or the night crawlers wake up.”

Sam was silent for a moment, just drinking his coffee, staring at the empty plates and dishes that were cleaning themselves in the sink.

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“Well,” Rowena said, setting her mug on table and standing. She smoothed her hands down her dress and then fixed her hair. “I think we should wake up the beastie and ask where his friend is.”

“Fuck,” Sam said. He had totally forgot that there had been two familiars.

“And then,” Rowena said. “We will figured out what happened to his witch and see if we can help in any other way.”

“We won’t tell any of the cryptids?” Sam said.

Rowena only blinked, her face remaining expressionless. “I think it’s best that they don’t know right away,” she said. “Don’t you agree?”

Sam did agree. He didn’t want Richard or Champ going crazy. Jimmy and Benji were sure to do something dumb and crazy if they found out. Keeping Dark Chocolate a secret was the best option, at least for now.

Damn. Sam cursed his stupidity. He still didn’t have a name.

 


	9. Sighting #9

Dark Chocolate took twenty minutes to wake up. In twenty minutes, Sam and Rowena had plenty of time to move him from the floor to the bed, to spell him into a pair of Sam’s sweatpants, and make him significantly more comfortable. In twenty minutes, Sam had plenty of time to think about everything he wanted to say and everything he wanted to ask. In twenty minutes, Sam had plenty of time to get nervous about the conversation to come.

He jumped to attention when Dark Chocolate coughed and then grunted, waking up with his hands tied behind him and the sigil still glowing on his chest.

He opened his eyes and took in the situation in a moment. In fact, he even had the audacity to smirk when his gaze settled on Sam. He shifted so that he was leaning back against the wall next to the bed and then crossed his legs.

“When I said I was going to get into your pants, I didn’t think it would be so literal,” he said.

Sam flushed hot, with both embarrassment and anger. “No more jokes,” he said. “I need straight answers. You just tried to _eat_ me!”

“Don’t get caught up on details,” Dark Chocolate said with a roll of his eyes.

“First things first,” Sam said, doing his best to ignore his comment. “I want a name.”

“Two dates, a one-night stand, and how many kisses? And you just now remember to ask for my name?” Dark Chocolate was still smirking. “And how many lovers have you had, Witch Samuel Winchester?”

Sam snapped. Or rather, the magic inside of him snapped. It raced up from his stomach into his chest and then it was shooting out his fingers, darting forward and wrapping around Dark Chocolate’s throat. Before Sam could even think, the magic was squeezing, the skin going taut and trapped.

“Max!” Dark Chocolate was yelling in a moment. “Max! My name is Max!”

Sam was pulling back his magic immediately, stunned by the ferocity that it had attacked with. Normally, he had better control. Of course, this was far from normal. This entire situation. Whatever his magic had done, though, had terrified Dark Chocolate. No, Max.

“Is that your real name?” Sam asked, still wary of him.

Max coughed and swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with that sort of death threat. “Of course,” he said. “Damn, your magic tasted powerful, but that was impressive.”

Sam felt violated all over again. “You had no right!”

“I had every right!” Max said, the first time actually sounding angry. His face twisted with anger and he jerked upright, baring his teeth very much like a cat. “I didn’t want to die!”

The sigil on his chest flared brightly, binding his power as he attempted to break free of Sam’s spells. It didn’t stop his teeth from growing a bit longer than normal and the hint of a third eye to imprint on his forehead.

But then he slumped back, returning to his completely human form with a sigh. He still glared at Sam though, eyes dark and angry.

“I deserve to live,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t say you didn’t,” Sam said, not feeling a bit guilty.

“Well, I need magic to live,” Max said. “And seeing how I wasn’t hurting anyone to get it, I think I was doing pretty good.”

Sam frowned. He wanted to protest but arguing with Max was hard when he looked so pretty and helpless tied up. So instead, Sam moved onto his other pressing questions.

“There were two of you,” he said. “In the forest that night. There was you and there was another . . . cat. Who was that? Where are they now?”

Max only shot him another glare. “I knew I should’ve let Alicia gut you in the forest. You were too pretty to be good.”

“Alicia?” Sam said, catching onto the name. He wanted to untie Max. He really did. But he also wasn’t sure if he could trust him completely just yet. Maybe in a couple hours, or however long it took for Max to seduce Sam all over again.

“You want my sob story?” Max said, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. “Will that make you untie me?”

“Sure,” Sam said, figuring negotiating was the best way to get what he wanted. “You tell me where you came from and who you are, and I’ll untie you.”

“Me and my sister, Alicia, are familiars,” Max started, not even arguing the compromise, just plunging straight into his story. “We were living with our witch for decades. Almost a hundred years. We were happy. And then some fucking witch hunter killed her off and we were suddenly stranded. We ate the magic still floating around the house for a couple weeks, but then things got worse.”

He was looking at his lap now, not at Sam. He was shivering too which made Sam feel worse and worse about the situation. Goosebumps were slowly spreading down his shoulders and arms, and Sam regretted not giving him a shirt along with his pants.

“So we left the cottage,” Max went on. “Went searching for other magic. Alicia was the one who first killed a cat. They have small bits of innate magic you know. But nothing tastes the same as human magic.” He looked up at Sam. “And we need human magic to live.”

“You couldn’t find another witch?” Sam asked.

Max shrugged. “Not many witches want two familiars munching on their magic,” he said. He looked pointedly at Sam. “Not many witches like _one_ familiar munching on their magic. I’m not going to abandon Alicia and she’s not going to abandon me.”

“And where is Alicia now?” Sam asked, not sure how he should take the story so far. The part of him that had almost gotten eaten wasn’t quite ready to show Max any sort of sympathy.

“Somewhere out in the woods, waiting for me to come home,” Max muttered. “I was going to eat what I needed and then take some back to her.”

Sam didn’t want to know how he would’ve done that and he certainly didn’t want to ask.

“We were just passing through,” Max went on. “We’re going down the coast, I swear. We stop at a place for barely a week and then we leave. We were leaving in a couple days. We just needed enough energy. You were our ticket out of here.”

“Well, you didn’t just catch my attention,” Sam said. “You’ve got some big-name officials after you. Not just me and my coven.”

Max snorted. “Coven? You mean that washed-up witch that follows you around? Honey, your magic is a hundred times sweeter and has a hundred times more potential.”

Sam shot him a glare. “Don't say that!” he said. “Not if Rowena is close.”

“And why not?” Max said, looking smug now that he had something to hold over Sam's head. “Got some power imbalance in the old coven?”

“No,” Sam said. “Rowena is centuries older than me. She doesn't like it when someone questions her knowledge.”

Max only shrugged. “I've eaten both of you,” he said. “I think my opinion is valid.”

“Shut up!” Sam said, feeling violated all over again. “I don't like being reminded.”

“Then tell me about this so-called officials who are hunting me and my sister,” Max said, folding his legs up pretzel style.

“It's the PETC,” Sam said, now his turn to spiral into a long-winded explanation. “They hired Rowena and me to hunt down the cryptid that was killing within our territory. It was right after the first human body showed up. They're the people who support the Ethical Treatment of Cryptids. They wanted Rowena and I to find you guys, capture you, and relocate you to a safe space.”

“Alicia and I are already heading to a safe space,” Max said with a frown. “We have connections down in Virginia. Roanoke witches. They'll be able to give us enough magic to live off of.”

“They want us to relocate you,” Sam said with a shrug of his own. “We have four cryptids in this house already and I know for a fact that at least one of them is going to freak out if they see you at all.”

A sly smile curled across Max’s face, making his eyes twinkle with mischief. It was a look that Sam recognized because Sam had seen it before. It meant that the gears in Max’s head were turning at a high rate, ready to concoct some sort of crazy plan.

“Are you saying that you are going to hide me, Witch Samuel Winchester?” he said coyly. “Because it sounds like you want to hide me. In plain sight. Because you aren’t quite ready to give me up.”

Sam blushed hot, hating that his intentions were so easily uncovered. Instead of satisfying Max with a response, he reached out to Rowena with his mind. Ever since Max had stopped snacking on him, his mental link had restored itself as strong as ever. He found her in the kitchen, mixing together some sort of potion in a cauldron on their stove top. Before he could figure out what she was making, she was addressing his presence.

_Please tell me everything is going okay in there,_ she thought.

_Everything’s going great,_ Sam replied. _How long are we going to wait before telling Richard and Champ?_

_However long you need,_ was Rowena’s reply.

Sam pulled himself away from their conversation and back to his bedroom. Max was looking at him like he had astral projected—which Sam obviously hadn’t—but at least he didn’t question it. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in a tantalizing invitation to kiss his throat. Sam didn’t take it.

“Rowena says we won’t turn you in right away,” Sam said. “So that means you have to cooperate while we figure out what we do want to do with you.”

Max relaxed back, relief crossing his face before he returned back to his careful neutral. “I thought you already knew what you wanted to do to me,” he said slyly, rolling his hips tantalizing. “Huh, Sammy? Are you going to do what you did the night we first met or what?”

“Are you going to do what you did last night?” Sam said, valiantly keeping a straight face.

“Geez,” Max said with a roll of his eyes. “You try to eat a guy once and suddenly he thinks that’s the only thing he thinks you’ll do.”

“Here’s the plan,” Sam said. “We’re going to pass you off as a witch looking to enter Rowena and my coven. That way, the PETC won’t question it too much and neither will Richard or Champ. We’ll be able to keep you close and you won’t have to spend every day locked up in my bedroom.”

“I’d love to spend everyday locked up in your bedroom,” Max said.

Sam ignored him. “The sigil will stay exactly where it is,” he said. “To make sure you don’t get any ideas. You can contact Alicia if you want but you won’t leave the house without me or Rowena accompanying you. Okay?”

Max pouted. “The sigil?” he said. “My two-piece swimming suit won’t look as good.”

Sam refused to think of Max in a bikini. Or in any sort of lingerie. He pushed all of those thoughts out of his mind. “Do you understand?” he asked instead.

Max rolled his eyes. “Yes, I understand, I _agree_. What else do you want me to say?”

Satisfied, Sam ended the spell on Max’s wrists and ankles, finally allowing him to stretch his arms and legs. Which his did luxuriously, groaning in satisfaction. He then gave Sam a smirk and a knowing look. Sam stepped back without meaning to, not wanting to get caught in his seduction. Or whatever.

“Do I get clothes or are you going to keep me naked?” Max asked with a tantalizing wiggle of his hips.

“I’ll show you to my closet,” Sam said, turning away from him and hurrying out of his room.  

Dressing Max up was a little harder than Sam anticipated. Max was several inches shorter than him with a much scrawnier build. Lithe and muscular, like a cat. Sam wanted to face palm. _Obviously_ like a cat. While Sam did tend to dress in clothes too small, too short, and too tight, most of the stuff he owned was still too big and didn’t fit right. Max didn’t look like a proper witch with untailored clothes.

So Sam modified several of his outfits. Simple words of magic undid the stitches and re-hemmed pants and skirts and shorts. Sam wasn’t about to give Max a proper witch’s hat, but he still modified one of his sun hats to be a bit pointier than the others and handed that over.

At the end of it all, Max did indeed look like a proper witch. The outfit Sam had chosen for him to be in when he was introduced to the cryptids was flawless, if Sam did say so himself.

The sunhat, pale blue in color, flopped dramatically on his head, almost dipping down to hide his face if Max looked anywhere but up. The pleather vest that Sam had adjusted clung to his chest and stomach maybe a little tighter than necessary. Still, it was thick enough to block the glowing of the sigil underneath. A sheer black-lace shawl draped over his shoulders, giving teasing glimpses of his biceps and skin. His pants were also pleather, skin tight, and black as Max’s fur when he was a cat. His heeled boots put him as tall as Sam’s shoulders.

“I forgot witches were so fashionable,” Max said, picking disgustedly at the shawl. “You really like dressing yourself in the most impractical things ever, don’t you?”

“Oh, come on,” Sam said, having way too much fun in his little dress-up game. “You look amazing. If you want to pass as a witch, then you have to look the part. No one was going to believe you in jeans and a button up. I mean, gross.”

“You certainly fell for it,” Max said with a moody glare.

“I can’t believe you took half an hour to get dressed,” Rowena snapped, walking into the room so suddenly that Sam jumped. “Please, Samuel, I thought I taught you that if an outfit takes over ten minutes to put on, it also takes over ten minutes to take off.” Her eyes landed on a newly-dressed Max and she smiled. “Still, to look like a true witch is a hard task to muster. You did a good job, Samuel.”

“So when are we going to wake up Richard and Champ and tell them about our ‘new recruit’?” Sam asked.

Rowena checked her phone and then banished it midair to some plane of storage. “Pretty soon, since it’s almost midnight,” she said. She pulled out a beaker holding a mysterious glowing blue potion. It was uncapped so Sam could hear the bubbles and fizz popping. She offered it to Max. “I need you to drink this.”

Max looked understandably suspicious. “I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Rowena’s blasé look of un-concerned didn’t waver. “You’ll drink it if you want to live,” she said. “I’ve packed enough of Sam’s magic into this recipe to keep you stuffed until Christmas. But I could always throw it out if you really don’t want it.”

Max snatched it from her in an instant, bringing it to his mouth and guzzling down several mouthfuls, swallowing greedily. Maybe he was hungry since he didn’t get to snack on Sam earlier.

“Um, where did you get my magic as an ingredient?” Sam asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

Rowena gave him a look. “You leave enough of your magic laying around here anyway,” she said. “I just picked up a little extra.”

Max pulled the bottle away from his lips with a gasp of satisfaction, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He lips his lips and then gave Sam a grin. “Just as good as you are,” he said. He tucked the half-finished bottle under his arms and it disappeared somewhere. “Alicia will be very grateful,” he said to Rowena.

“Can everyone stop eating me like I’m a plate of cookies left out on the counter?!” Sam said.

“What can I say?” Max said, throwing him a casual smile. “You’re a snack.”

“Enough flirting, boys,” Rowena said with a clap of her hands. “Let’s go wake up Richard and see what he thinks of our newest witch.”

 


	10. Sighting #10

“Do you think Max has a similar style to you?” Richard whispered to Sam as all the cryptids and witches in the house settled around the dining table for an admittedly very early breakfast.

Champ had even crawled out of the bathtub and away from her computer and headset to sit on the floor and snap up sushi from a plate of her own. Benji and Jimmy were grumpy—and exhausted—to be woken up in the middle of the night without the sun to charge them back up, but they were appeased with twin bags of Doritos.  

Richard, on the other hand, couldn’t be bothered to take off his avocado face mask or comb his feathers. He just slumped at the end of the table, casually eating the apple slices that Sam provided him and hadn’t been contributing to the conversation until his off-hand comment to Sam.

“Um, I think it’s just because he’s a witch,” Sam whispered back. He wasn’t sure how many excuses he was willing to come up with too defend Max's witchy style. But Sam also didn't want Richard getting too suspicious.

Richard accepted the explanation with a shrug, grabbing another apple slice and biting off half of it. He crunched it loudly.

“I want everyone to be very welcoming to Max,” Rowena was saying from her own seat at the opposite end of the table. She had her own plate of eggs and mushrooms that she was picking off of. “As Sam and I evaluate him as a potential witch for our coven, he will be staying at the house for an undetermined amount of time.”

“You woke all of us up just to tell us that?” Jimmy asked from where he say on the counter. He had a bowl of Nacho Cheese Doritos during next to him and cheesy dust around his mouth.

“Yeah, lame!” Benji said. He sat on the floor under Jimmy's feet, a bowl of Cool Ranch Doritos sitting next to him. He yawned and then somehow used his foot to flip another chip into his mouth. “We should only been woken up if there’s hot girls.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Didn’t we mention that? I thought for sure we mentioned that.”

Benji nodded. “We are here for girls and boobs. Not necessary boobs on girls, I should say. Those are two separate things.”

“Boobs _and_ girls,” Jimmy confirmed with a sage-like nod.

“Ok-ay,” Max said with an extreme look of discomfort. He looked desperately at Sam and jerked his chin away at the living room. “I eed-nay to alk-tay to you ivately-pray.”

Sam pushed himself up from the table quickly, earning a pointed look from Rowena. He ignored it. “Max, do you want to see the living room?” he said maybe a little louder than necessary. “We have some pretty interesting, uh, spells set up in there that I want you to see.”

“No one cares if you make out at the table,” Richard muttered, crunching his way through another apple slice. “Really.”

“I will dye your feathers pink,” Sam hissed as he and Max walked around Richard's chair.

Richard only laughed. “I've already done that, honey, and I totally pulled it off.”

And then Sam and Max alone in the living room, and Max was fiddling with the tailored hem of his vest, shifting from one heeled boot to the other. For the first time since Sam had met him, Max looked honestly nervous. He looked to Sam pleadingly, chewing on his bottom lip with his eyes wide.

“I don't want to do this!” he whispered. “Those cryptids are _crazy_!” There was an indent on his forehead that was threatening to open up into an eye, probably from the stress. “If I didn’t care so much about hiding, I would _eat_ one of those night crawlers!”

Sam frowned. “I thought you only ate magic?”

“Those buggers are swimming in magic,” Max said. “It doesn't taste like yours, but it's magic. I've eaten worse things when I was more desperate.”

Sam didn't even want to ask.

Instead, he put a hand on Max's shoulder, comforting him without hooking him until a tempting embrace. Max's shivers ceased under his touch, and he seemed to relax even with a touch as small as that.

“You'll be fine,” Sam said in the most comforting tone he could manage. “It's just for a couple days. Tonight we'll go find. . . Alicia and then we can start planning your way out of here.”

“And what about Misters Hyper Heterosexual in there?!” Max grumbled, glaring over his shoulder at the kitchen, where Jimmy and Benji were still talking about boobs.

“They’re asleep half of the time,” Sam said. “Don’t worry about them. I’ll make sure you’re with me most of the time and that you don’t have to put up with the other cryptids that much.”

Max pouted like a child, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wanted you to be my knight in shining armor,” he mumbled. “But I don't want to be your damsel in distress.”

“Well, we don't always get what we want,” Sam said. “Now, are you going to pull yourself together? Or do I need to tie you back up in my room?”

“Oh, tie me up, daddy,” Max said with fake enthusiasm.

At least, Sam was telling himself it was fake enthusiasm. He didn't want to think otherwise. So he grabbed Max's arm and dragged him back into the kitchen where Rowena was explaining the witch initiation that was custom in most covens. Sam and Max returned to their seats, and Sam stuffed half a slice of toast into his mouth to avoid having to talk.

“Samuel and I will be taking Max out to the forest today,” Rowena said as she finished her explanation. “To begin the testing and the first steps of seeing if he is a compatible witch for our coven.”

Sam made eye contact with Max across the table. Max winked.

“Champ,” Rowena continued, not noticing their exchange. “I want you to continue looking up information about the familiar we're still supposed to be hunting. I won't let coven matters interrupt with that.”

“Of course, Witch Rowena, my skin was getting dried out anyway,” Champ said, snapping up the last of her fish and then maneuvering herself away from the table and heading back towards the bathroom.

“Benji, Jimmy,” Rowena went on. “Can I trust you two to go to the bars and scope out any sightings of the beastie?”

Benji and Jimmy shared smirking looks and both nodded.

“Oh we can definitely take the boobs,” Benji said.

“The bars,” Jimmy corrected.

They both jumped to their feet and were out the door before Rowena could say anything else.

“See?” Sam said, forcing himself to smile at Max. “We can deal with this.”

“And, Richard,” Rowena went on, ignoring the way Max was starting to hyperventilate.

Richard held up a talon, stopping her before she could even start. “Oo, honey,” he said. “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m not doing anything today. Stress is bad for my feathers, and I have been _way_ too stressed lately. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not doing anything.”

Max was rubbing his temples, staring blankly at the table in front of him. “Oh my go-od,” he muttered.

“Fine,” Rowena said with a slight look of annoyance. “You can stay here. And rest. I guess.”

Richard nodded and pulled out a cellphone that Sam had never seen before. He somehow tapped it open with the tips of his talons and was immediately absorbed in the screen, ignoring Sam, Rowena, and Max all at once.

“I guess that settles it,” Rowena said, spelling all the dishes into the sink to begin washing themselves. “Samuel. Max. We can go now."

Max almost tripped over himself in an effort to get away from the kitchen table and he grabbed Sam’s hand as they walked through the living room, squeezing him tightly. Sam squeezed him back, not used to being someone’s rock of comfort. But it was a nice feeling. Until they got outside and Max let go of his hand.

“I forgot how crazy covens are,” he muttered, rushing ahead of Sam and batting at his shawl when the collar tickling his chin.

“Let’s have conversations in the car,” Rowena said.

Once they had all piled in—Rowena in the driver’s seat and Sam and Max in the backseat together—Rowena spelled the car to head to their destination and finally settled down. She looked over her shoulder at Sam first and then at Max.

“You lived alone with a witch then,” she said, half a question and half a statement. “Not in a coven?”

“Me and my sister,” Max said. “But yes. We avoided covens when we could. We only eat the magic of one witch so what’s the point of putting up with more than that? We were fine with just one witch and one witch only.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And covens mean drama.”

“We only have drama because of all the cryptids staying in our house right now,” Sam said, wanting to defend his coven.  

“Well, it’s more than enough for me,” Max said. “Plus, familiars don’t play well with others.”

Sam had never heard that before. He raised an eyebrow.

“Alicia is different,” Max added. “Because she’s family.”

The discussion was cut off suddenly as they arrived at the forest that Sam had first encountered Max and Alicia. He hadn’t know it was them at the time obvious. He had only been terrified of the two gigantic feline cryptids who, for all intents and purposes, had wanted to kill him.

Max hopped out of the car eagerly, stretching his arms over his head. “Here’s where I would shift form,” he said and Sam and Rowena climbed out after him. “However.” He tugged down his collar enough to show off the glow of the sigil keeping him bound and gave Sam a dirty look.

“Just show us the way, dearie,” Rowena said, starting into the forest without a car or worry for her dress. No plants would dare trip her up anyway.

Max followed her, grumbling under his breath.

Sam followed him, enjoying the view and making sure Max didn’t try anything suspicious.

They easily found the clearing with the half-destroyed fae circle that Sam had sat in. Max kicked one of the mushrooms with a dirty look, ignoring Sam’s gasp of nervousness.

“Didn’t even taste good,” he mumbled and looked up at Sam. “I have to call Alicia,” he said. “Which means I have to partially transform. Is that okay, _master_?”

Sam didn’t like his tone but he nodded anyway, stepping back to give Max more room.

The first thing Max did was take off his hat and rip off the shawl, shrugging his shoulders with the found freedom. He closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, as if to calm and focus himself. Slowly, his face twisted with pain and the sigil on his chest flared so bright that Sam could see it through the shirt.

Twin black triangular ears sprouted from the sides of Max’s head, laying themselves back as Max continued to shift. His teeth grew longer, dipping outside his mouth just a little, teasing Sam was all the wrong thoughts. Finally, a third eye sprouted in the middle of his forehead, fully opening and glowing green. When Max opened his other two eyes, they were bright green as well.

He howled at the sky, tipping his head back and letting out a mournful call that sounded more wolf than cat. The noise echoed through the forest, sending a couple birds into the air with nervous songs. Max then sat back, hands twitching at his sides. He was panting from fighting the sigil so far, but he maintained his form.

It only took a couple moments for a similar howl to call back, and Max sank back to his human form with a gasp of exhaustion.

“She’ll be here soon,” he said, tugging absentmindedly at the collar of his shirt. “She knows you’re here too, so don’t try anything funny.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Rowena said. “How long do you think it’ll take her?”

“Not long at all, witch,” a new voice said. “Or should I say bitch?”

Sam whirled around. Rowena turned with much more dignity.

A girl stood at the edge of the clearing. Woman. Sam’s mind bounced back and forth between the two options.

She was dressed in skin tight jeans and a maroon blouse that made Sam jealous. Her hair was wild and beautiful, just like her eyes. She didn’t have any of the beastly characteristics that her feline form had, but somehow Sam knew that she could probably tear him apart if she wanted to.  She had her arms crossed and her hip cocked, like she could take on the world and wasn’t even concerned about it.

“Huh, bitches?” she said. “Wanna tell me why you have my brother strung up like a puppet or do I have to eat your heart to find out?”

“She won’t eat your heart,” Max said nervously, frantically gesturing to her. “Alicia, they said they would _help_ us.”

So this was Alicia. Her brown eyes flashed amber, the dent of a third one on her forehead appearing for a brief moment. “You know what we’ve done to other people who said they’d help us, Max,” she said, sauntering forward into the clearing. She crushed a mushroom under her foot without even flinching. “We can do the same thing to these people too.”

“We don’t need to,” Max said. “ _Alicia_.”

They exchanged a certain look and were silent for a long moment. Sam got the idea that they were probably communicating telepathically, similar to what he and Rowena did within their coven. It must’ve been a good thing because after a moment, Alicia backed down and the third eye on her forehead receded.

“Fine,” she said, looking more at Sam than at Rowena. “I won’t kill you, just because Max says you’ve got a cute butt.”

“I didn’t say that!” Max said, glaring at Alicia. “I said you’d be a good ASSet. Okay? Geez.”

“Same thing,” Alicia said with a roll of her eyes. “So what's the shtick? Why are you guys hunting us down and what do you want?”

“In case you hadn't noticed,” Rowena said, giving Alicia a hard look. “You've killed people, and you've hurt many others. You've got the attention of some powerful people.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” Alicia said.

“Not _me_ ,” Rowena snapped. “The people in the PETC. They want you rounded up and moved to a location of their choosing. So they can keep track of you and make sure you don't go killing anyone else.”

“We're not cryptids,” Alicia said, wrinkling her nose in obvious disgust. “Max and I just need a witch. And we have connections down the coast and that’s where we were headed.”

“I told him that,” Max said. “But he wouldn’t listen.”

“If we let you go,” Rowena said. “Samuel and I will have to return to the PETC with empty hands and I’m not about to explain to a paper-pushing government blue collar why that is. If Samuel and I return empty handed, the government could threaten to revoke our coven status. They could dismantle us as easy as that.” She snapped her fingers. “I am sorry, truly, but we can’t let you two just walk away.”

Alicia’s mouth twitched, like she wanted to pull her lips back in a snarl. She didn’t and only clenched her hands into tight fists.

“We’ll just have to figure something out,” Sam said, verbally jumped between them before they could be at each other’s throats. “I mean, a human in the government? That can’t be hard to intimidate.”

“Humph,” Alicia said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I guess as long as you’ve got my brother on a fucking leash, I kinda have to cooperate, don’t I?”

Well, that was true.

Sam looked at Max just in time to see him wince and scratch at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t get a chance to comment, because his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He thought he had set it to silent, but apparently not. Sam grabbed it, frowning when he saw it was Richard, but answered it dutifully.

“What?” he said, not bothering to be overly polite.

“Hi, Sam, nice to hear your voice,” Richard said. But he wasn't sarcastic or snappy or caustic. Instead, he sounded worried. He hurried on, talking so quickly Sam struggled to figure out what he was saying. “So you know I like you and you know I'd never do anything to mess with your stuff except maybe your wardrobe but I want to let you know that I may or may not have gotten a call from thePETCaskingaboutourprogressandItoldthemwehadthecryptid. Okay?!”

“Wait, what?” Sam said, a flash of panic making his heart race faster. “Richard, say that again and say it slower.”

“I just got a call,” Richard said, almost panting from nervousness. “From the PETC. They wanted to know about the cryptid. I told them we had the cryptid. But I'm sorry!!”

“Why did you tell them that?!” Sam demanded. Rowena, Max, and Alicia were all starting at him now, all extremely concerned just from listening to his half of the conversation.

“You think I'm an idiot, don't you?” Richard said. “You think I'm a GODDAMN idiot!!”

“What are you talking about?” Sam said, feeling just as nervous as Richard sounded.

“I'm talking about _Max_ ,” Richard said. “Oh, Max! We're hunting for a cryptid and suddenly he shows up looking like a piece of candy and like he's a Christmas tree in July. Ha! You think I wouldn't notice that he’s a familiar in disguise? You think I’m stupid! I pulled that same thing _years_ ago!”

“Oh shit,” Sam said, pulling the phone away from his ear to look at Rowena. “Richard knows.”

“Fuck!” Alicia said.

“I panicked during the phone call!” Richard yelled into the phone, as if he knew Sam had pulled away and wanted to make sure he was still heard. “I didn’t mean to out him! I really didn’t!”

Sam put the phone back to his ear.

“I called to _warn_ you!!” Richard said frantically. “It’s all my fault the PETC is headed your way and I want to help you however I can! Just tell me what to do!”

“They’re headed our way,” Sam said to Rowena.

“This is all your fault!” Alicia snarled. Her teeth elongated and her third eye opened, glowing orange. “Let my brother go! We’re leaving _now_!”

“Yee can’t go now,” Rowena said, her accent thickening with her panic. “With the PETC being close, yee will leave a trail like a shooting star. They’ll nab yee before yee can even blink.”

“You need our help,” Sam said and flinched when Alicia turned her glowing glare at him.

“Like shit we need your help,” she snapped.

“Alicia, they’re right,” Max said, stepping between her and Sam. “We can’t get out with the PETC being so close on our tails.”

Alicia didn’t close her third eye, but her teeth did go back to normal, so Sam took that as a good sign. Until Max turned to him.

“But you have to release me,” he said. “I can’t do anything like this. Please break the sigil. If the PETC catch me like this, it’ll be the end. I will have no way to fight back.” He was begging again in a way that made Sam’s knees go weak.

“Here,” Sam said, stepping closer to him.

He gathered his magic in his hand and then to the tip of his finger. Max picked up on what Sam was doing and stepped closer too, so that Sam’s finger hovered over his chest. Sam took a deep breath, just to steady himself, and then pressed his finger against the mark.

Breaking it was easy. It was powerful magic, but it was Sam’s magic, and he could manipulate his magic however he wanted.

Max’s third eye snapped open the moment the sigil broke, glowing bright green and healthy. He smiled, canines just a big longer than normal. He ripped off his shirt, tossing the garment aside and stepping chest-to-chest with Sam.

“Can I have a bit of your magic?” he asked in a whisper, sticking out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

“S-Sure,” Sam stuttered, not used to this sudden surge of confidence in Max. Without the sigil, he was completely uncontrollable.

Max pulled him into a kiss, sucking on his bottom lip and sucking on his magic. Sam could identify it now that he knew it was there. It was just a small tug on the pool of power in his stomach, barely anything. Max kissed him for a long time, but the string of magic flowing between them didn’t get any bigger or stronger. Max was taking only what was needed and nothing else.

“There we go,” he said when he finally pulled away.

Sam was starstruck.

“Back to my old self,” Max said with a smirk. “Thanks, big boy.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he could hear those words without thinking of anything inappropriate. Nope, no he couldn’t.

“Samuel,” Rowena said, snapping him out of his daydream of him and Max. “Yee go with them. Hide someplace safe. I don’t care where, just well enough that the PETC won’t find yee. Now git.”

“Come on,” Max said and transformed into his cat form.

He was bigger than Sam remembered. Or maybe Sam just wasn’t used to him being so close. He was the size of a small pony. Was that right? Alicia transformed next, slightly smaller but no less intimidating. All six of their eyes glowed brightly, and Max gave him a toothy smile.

Sam swallowed back any of his hesitation and all of his previous thoughts about Max. He had to concentrate now. Both of their lives were in his hands, and Sam would sooner be damned to hell than let someone as beautiful as Max get arrested. That in and of itself was a crime.

Sam was no criminal. But as he rushed off through the undergrowth, spelling his way so that he could keep up with the overgrown cats, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the green glowing spots that were the only difference between Alicia and Max in their current forms.

Okay, so Sam wasn’t a criminal. But he was a witch and that wasn’t much better.

 


	11. Sighting #11

“We need to find cover, _now_ ,” Sam managed to gasp out. He was really running out of breath and probably needed more exercise in general but now was definitely not the time to get that exercise. He was starting to fall behind Alicia and Max too, which wasn’t good at all.

He had spells keeping the plants away from his feet, legs, and face, but he was still stumbling and losing ground every couple steps. If he didn’t take a breather, he was bound to miss a step completely and go down.

“Guys?” he said, scanning the underbrush in front of him for any signs of the cats, but there was nothing that he could see. A chunk of ice-y fear settled in his stomach. “Max?!”

The green-eyed cat appeared in front of him, meowing in a concerned sort of way. At least, Sam told himself it was concern. Max meowed again and then curled around Sam, positioning himself so that he was under Sam’s arm, holding him up.

His fur was softer than Sam thought it was going to be, thick and heavy like a winter coat on an animal. As Sam braced himself on steadier feet, he realized that a thick tuft of fur, spikier and tougher than the other fur, ran from the back of Max’s head all the way down to his tail. Sam stroked his hand along it, mesmerized.

Max purred and shifted suddenly, tossing Sam over his back. As if . . . as if he wanted Sam to ride him.

Sam gulped and quickly pushed himself back to his feet, backing away from Max. “I . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “I just need a couple minutes to rest.”

Max growled and laid back his ears. Before Sam could react, he darted behind him, ducking between his legs and lifting Sam up easily, like he weighed nothing at all. And Sam found himself suddenly perched on top of Max, straddling his broad shoulders, hands buried in his fur. Sam was going to protest, but Max didn’t give him the chance to. He was already moving, and Sam had no choice but to hold on or get left behind.

Max and Alicia moved _fast_ , much faster than Sam could ever. Even without spells, they slipped through the undergrowth like true cats, barely touched by the plants. They also knew the land better than he did, and it only took them a couple moments to find a small cave and duck inside.

Sam collapsed off of Max, thudding against the cave floor. Almost immediately, Max was licking his face, sandpaper-ey tongue rough on his cheek and almost painful. Sam tried to push him away. The cave was way too small for physical affection. As if on cue, someone—Sam wasn’t sure if it was Alicia or Max—stepped on his crotch.

“Ouch!” Sam yelled, sitting up so fast the Max tumbled off him as much as the huge cat could tumble.

“Hide us!” Alicia said, partially shifting back into her human form. It was only for a moment, just long enough for her to boss him around, and then she was back to her cat form.

Sam shot her a glare, but he dutifully dug through his memory and found a spell that would hide them well enough from any prying eyes and redirect any other spells that would be used to hunt them. It would keep them safe and hidden as long as Sam had the magical energy for it. It would be a small challenge, but Sam could do it. He fished a paperclip out of his pocket and cast the spell with a couple muttered words and then relaxed back against the cave wall to catch his breath.

Alicia and Max took up most of the room in the small cave. Their bodies were just too huge and Sam was just too small. And they were a lot bigger up close. And their glowing eyes were kind of spooky.

Sam swallowed and looked at his lap, focusing on keeping the spell strong and them hidden.

Seconds stretched into minutes. Minutes stretched into hours. Sam's legs began to cramp from being folded so long. He couldn't unfold or ease the pain without taking up too much room. Still, he shifted as much as he could. The spell was also sapping his energy, becoming more and more of a burden as time ticked on. He was sweating too.

Max blinked at him, staring at him with an intensity that he could only manage with three eyes. He meowed.

“I’m fine,” Sam said through gritted teeth. “Don’t distract me.”

Max only meowed again and then stepped forward, careful to keep his paws off of Sam. He leaned over him, looming and dark even in the shadows of the cave. Sam grimaced as Max dragged his sandpapery tongue right across Sam’s cheek. _That_ definitely made his concentration waver.

And then Max’s lips—his human, very not-cat lips—were pressed against Sam’s mouth. He was kissing Sam, obviously, warm and distracting in the cold damp of the cave.

The spell wavered on Sam's fingertips, and the pull on his power flared uncontrollably. He was going to lose control if Max wasn't careful. They would be exposed, and then whatever PETC agents were looking for them, would find them and then Sam wouldn't be able to do anything. He was exhausted and Max was kissing him and Sam couldn't concentrate.

“Focus,” Max murmured, pulling away from his mouth just enough to get the words out before smothering Sam in another kiss.

And suddenly Sam's mind was razor sharp, and the magic in his stomach snapped to attention. It raced up his throat and spilled out his fingers before Sam could even think. The spell, which had been wobbling and unstable, was suddenly stronger than ever, enveloping the cave in a comforting heat that it hadn't had before. Sam was surprised at the strength, and for a moment, he couldn't believe that the spell was coming from _him_.

Max pulled away from him then, shifting completely back to his human form, losing his cat ears and third eye. He grinned at Sam, his teeth completely human.

“Better?” he asked in a soft whisper.

Sam couldn't catch his breath, clinging to the cave wall, now warm from the spell. He wasn't exhausted though. The opposite, really. He was buzzing with energy, wide-awake, and struggling to figure out what had just happened. Certainly a kiss couldn't have caused that. Sam had better control over his magic than that. A kiss wasn't supposed to affect him like that.

“I'm a familiar,” Max said, as if he could read Sam’s mind.

Wait, could he read minds?

“I channel magic,” Max continued, not answering Sam's unspoken question. “If a witch lets me feed at least once, I can help direct their magic and make the spells they cast more powerful than usual.”

“Oh,” Sam said. He felt shaky, like if he stood up, he would probably pass out immediately. He satisfied himself by tilting his head back against the cave wall, trying to catch his breath.

Alicia hissed at them from where she was curled by the cave entrance, and when Sam looked up, she rolled all of her eyes. Her tail twitched but other than that, her annoyance was subtle. And honestly, if she was bothered by Sam and Max, then she could find her own hiding spot.

Sam slumped back against the cave wall, too tired to question Max’s explanation. It had worked and that was good enough for him. As long as the spell held up, then they were safe. Sam didn’t want to put too much thought into it anyway.

“We'll be safe now,” Max said, relaxing against the wall opposite of Sam. “Your spell is powerful enough to hide us from a thunderstorm if needed.”  

As if thunderstorms were hard to hide from. Wait, yes they were.

“Thank you,” Sam managed. “I was—that helped. A lot.”

Max grinned and then melted back into his cat form. He stepped across the space and then settled down next to Sam, climbing onto his lap and resting his head on Sam's thighs.

He was heavy and warm, solid against Sam in the fading dark of the cave. Without thinking, Sam ran his fingers through Max's fur, scratching behind his ears and massaging his broad shoulders. He could feel the muscle and sinew under the skin and fur, and Max shifted under his touch. He started purring, and Sam suddenly realized what he was doing.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, snatching his hand away. He wasn’t sure where else he was supposed to put them, so he clenched them at his sides, so that at least he wouldn’t be tempted to touch Max any more than he already had.

Max only blinked slowly at him and purred louder. He curled up a little bit tighter, warm and heavy on Sam’s lap, and settled down for a nap.

Sam wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to relax at a time like this, but as Max rumbled on his lap and the spell made the cave warm and cozy, his eyes started to drift closed and before he realized what was happening, he was falling asleep.

And he woke up with his own name echoing in his mind and his mouth dry from sleeping with his mouth open.

_Samuel. Samuel! Answer me! If you don’t answer me I will tear apart this entire forest and destroy every rock that exists to find you. Samuel Winchester!_

It was Rowena, calling to him mentally. Her panic and sincerity was obvious, and Sam snapped upright, dislodging Max from his lap.

_I’m here!_ He called. _Rowena! I’m here. I’m fine!_

He cancelled the hiding spell with a wave of his hand, surprised he didn’t feel absolutely drained from a night of maintaining it. But then he remembered what Max had said . . . last night? What time was it? Sam wasn’t quite sure.

_Rowena!_ He called again. _I am here!_

He opened his mind up to her, broadcasting his position to her and hoping that’s enough for her to locate him.

Max and Alicia were also waking up, still in their cat forms. They were yawning and stretching, revealing dangerously sharp claws and teeth. Their fur was bristled up against the developing cold of the morning, making them seem a little larger than normal. And they were already large to begin with.

“There you are!” Rowena said, stooping so she could look into the cave. “Come out. The agents are all gone.”

Max and Alicia prowled out easily, stretching even more in the grass outside the cave. Alicia eyed Rowena and the two bags sitting at her feet with distrust and stayed in her cat form. Max seemed like he wanted to shift but took one look at Alicia and stayed as a cat.

“Oh, _Sam_!” Richard said, swooping down from the sky in a graceful dive. He collided with Sam, digging his talons into his clothes and wrapping his wings around him in a tight hug.

Sam could now say that he had been bear hugged by a cryptid. Which wasn't exactly strange or bad.

He wrapped his arms around Richard in return, the fabric of his sleeveless windbreaker crinkling between them. Richard certainly didn't want to let him go and, if anything, clung to Sam even tighter, all gangly legs and wings and feathers.

“Oh, Sam,” he said again. “I thought you were a goner for sure! I thought I had fucked things up so bad. I'm so glad you're alive! You are my favorite human on the whole planet and I'm not sure what I would do if something happened to you!!”

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to the affection, caught a little off guard by the whole speech. “I'm fine, Richard,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I survived and I'm fine.”

Richard pushed back just enough so that he could look Sam more in the eye.

“I put you in danger,” he said seriously. “I never want to do that again _ever_. And I'm so, so, so, so, sorry!!”

For a moment, Sam was scared Richard was going to try to kiss him, and his mind went through ten different scenarios involving the physics and technicalities of kissing someone with a beak. How would that even work? Sam wasn't sure he wanted to find out. Thankfully, Richard just went back to hugging him, burying his face in Sam's neck and clutching him tighter with his talons and wings.

“I'm fine,” Sam repeated, giving him an extra squeeze. “We can figure everything out now.” He looked over at Rowena and raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I think?”

Rowena was wearing a black lace camisole, camouflage cargo pants, and heavy black hiking boots with silver studs on their heels. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, streaming down her back and shoulders. Her makeup was matte blacks and grays, serious and distinguish. She was dressed for business, the kind of business where she expected to get her hands dirty.

Sam kind of liked it.

“The last time the government involved itself with witches,” she stated, squaring her shoulders back and standing tall. “Was when they burned our people at the stake. Now they want to get involved again, and I am not in the mood to be burned.”

Sam swallowed and smiled. The last time Rowena hadn't been in the mood for something, was when it had rained for a week straight around a decade ago. They hadn’t been able to go out drinking at all, sitting at home bored out of their minds and unable to spell themselves any sort of fun. Rowena had finally snapped and banished all weather except the sun for a month, using an incantation that Sam had never even heard of before. The meteorologists had been happy. The farmers in the area had had a much different opinion.

And that had just been personal. Rowena protected her own. Sam was Coven and that meant that the agents had attacked something more than personal. Sam could see the fury burning behind her eyes.

“Richard,” Rowena said, planting her hands on her hips. “Let go of Samuel. We have work to do.”

Richard immediately jumped down from Sam, fluffing up his feathers and trying to look dignified. He shuffled from talon to talon and finally straightened his windbreaker and looked at the ground rather than anything else.

Rowena snapped her fingers and suddenly Sam wasn’t wearing the clothes that were dirty from the running and the night in the cave. And he didn’t feel grimy or sweaty either.

Now, he wore a pale blue jean jacket, the shoulders and elbows ripped stylishly but still functional. A black muscle shirt clung to his skin underneath that. He wore heavy black khaki cargo pants and black hiking boots similar to hers. He didn’t have a mirror, but he was pretty sure he now wore makeup that was very similar to hers.

“Hot,” Richard muttered, bringing the tip of his wing up to his own face and then quickly shaking his feathers.

“Are you ready?” Rowena said, tossing Sam a bag that was stuffed full of spell components. She grinned wildly, her magic dancing across her skin in crackles of energy.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Sam said, swinging the bag over his shoulder.

He looked at Richard and then at Max and Alicia. Max blinked at him and Alicia rolled all of her eyes. Richard puffed out his chest in support, giving Sam an encouraging nod.

“We’re going to have to break some major laws,” he said and then grinned. “And I _love_ it!”


	12. Sighting #12

“First things first,” Rowena said, spreading a giant roll of parchment across the table.

They had found a dive bar with a private room in the back. It wasn’t the best sort of scenario. There were suspicious stains on most of the walls and a couple on the floor. The only like was from a neon sign on the far wall that read “Boobs! Boobs! Boobs!” in hot pink lettering and a lone lightbulb that hung from a lone wire in the center of the ceiling.

Sam, Rowena, Alicia, Max, and Richard were all huddled around the small table that Rowena had dragged under the lightbulb. They stood shoulder to shoulder mostly. Max was huddled near Sam. Alicia was next to Max and trying to stay as far away from Rowena as possible. Richard was sandwiched between Sam and Rowena.

“We need a plan of attack,” Rowena said, creating a map of the local area and surrounding forests with a few small words.

The lines of ink slithered across the paper, moving and animating the map in any way that was helpful. She tapped a black manicured fingernail against five different spots in the map and new figures swirled into existence—bouncy little men holding guns.

“They have five agents in the area watching our case,” she went on. “They aren't actively trying to follow us but that could change at any time. We need to move fast while we can.”

“Move fast to do what?” Alicia snapped, clutching a bit tighter to Max's arm. She was still having a hard time trusting anyone besides Max.

“We're going to get you out of here,” Sam said, knowing exactly what Rowena was going to say. He just wanted to be the one to say it.

He pointed down near the edge of the map, where the roads faded away until nothing, leading the way to freedom. He tapped it, but the map didn't react to him the same way it reacted for Rowena. It stayed exactly how it was.

“We just need to get you out of the precinct,” Sam said. “Our coven borders go farther than that but once you're out of city boundaries, the agents will have to go through all the red tape and paperwork to investigate that area.”

“That will give you plenty of time to travel even further south,” Rowena said, picking up seamlessly where Sam left off. “And, if needed, Samuel and I will distract the agents more to give you a better head start.”

“What about Champ?” Richard asked. “And Jimmy and Benji?”

“That's easy,” Rowena said. “If they don’t want to help, then we just won’t tell them what we’re doing. Champ might be willing to help. Benji and Jimmy have too big of mouths sometimes.”

“ _Sometimes_?” Richard said, aghast. “Oh, honey, it’s more like all the time.” He slammed a talon down on the map and leaned forward, the lack of lightning throwing his face into harsh shadows. “ _Here’s_ what we’re going to do.”

And suddenly, he didn't look like Richard. And suddenly, Sam remembered that he was Mothman, and Mothman was terrifying and dangerous and powerful. The feathers on the back of Richard's head and down his wings rose up, making him bigger and more intimidating. His eyes flashes red, and Sam realized why so many horror stories were attached to him.

“The house is here,” Richard said, tapping the spot on the map. “I can convince Champ to help us and she can send out a network across this entire area. With those sorts of connections, binding the government agents to one area won’t be a problem.”

Sam’s mouth fell open before he could stop himself. “But binding any sort of beings to an area requires high level spells,” he said. “Not to mention we’d have to prepare ingredients and séances and rituals—”

Richard flashed his red eyes at Sam, making him trail off. “One thing you should know, Sam Winchester,” he said, trailing his talons down the leg of the table, leaving shallow gouges in the wood. “That cryptid magic is a fiery, willful, _powerful_ thing and just because your magic cannot not do something in an instant, does not mean that it takes me just as long.”

Sam swallowed hard and closed his mouth. He had never seen Richard like this.

“Besides,” Richard continued, losing any sort of hostility in an instant. He examined his talons as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t chip one. “A simple binding spell is easy. Cryptids often bind themselves or others to places and things, which is why they often only appear in localized areas.”

As if that explained everything ever.

“If Benji and Jimmy don’t want to help,” Richard said. “I’ll take care of them myself.”

He said it with such finality that Sam knew that he was, without a doubt, serious about the veiled threat.

“Once Champ has the area thoroughly canvassed,” Richard said. “We can start moving.” He looked at Max and Alicia now. “You two will stay out of sight. Even in your human forms, you are way too recognizable.”

“Yeah?” Alicia said, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. “And what do you expect us to do?”

Richard only narrowed his eyes in a challenge back. “I expect you to be smart and to stay out of sight,” he said. “Obviously. Cryptids have been doing it for centuries, you can manage it for a week, I’m _sure_.”

“A week?” Rowena said. “You expect us to keep up this charade for a _week_?”

“I expect you to listen to me and follow the plan,” Richard said, tapping the map with even more urgency than before. “I know what I’m doing. I know how to do _this_. You think being a gay cryptid is easy? You think I haven’t snuck around this entire country without learning tricks of the trade? You think I don’t know how to be fucking _invisible_?!”

Sam swallowed because the words sounded all too real and because Richard’s voice cracked before he had finished his rant. This was real to the cryptid, way too real. Richard was probably centuries old, if not thousands of centuries. What had he gone through? It would be rude to ask, but that didn’t stop the thought from repeating in Sam’s brain.

“Now,” Richard said, taking a careful breath and smoothing back the feathers on his head in an effort to calm himself. “The plan itself is simple—hide Max and Alicia, keep them hidden and fed long enough to distract the agents _crawling_ through the woods, and then get them out of the state safely.”

Alicia rolled her eyes.

“Now,” Richard said. “The hard part is actually doing all of that.”

“That’s how it usually is,” Alicia snapped. “How are we supposed to do this if it’s so hard?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and clung a little bit tighter to Max’s arm. “Honestly, Max and I were doing fine before all of you got involved.”

“You’ve never had the help of cryptids, have you?” Richard said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I may work for the PETC, but that doesn’t mean I approve of cryptids and the like being deported wherever the government thinks they should go. I help the cryptids I can and smudge the paperwork of the ones I can’t.”

“What would you have done if Max hadn’t seduced Sam?” Alicia said, as if she had to challenge Richard at every single step of the plan.

“I would have helped you anyway,” Richard said without a hint of hesitation. He held Alicia’s gaze with a glowing red, challenging one of his own. “I’m on _your_ side. I’m one of _you_. When it comes down to it, I am a cryptid first, a proud gay second, and a human fucker third.”

Max wrinkled his nose. “Gross, too much information.”

“Oh, and a fashionista fourth,” Richard added and then pointed back to the map. “Now, are we going to roll over and let the government agents deport us? Or are we going to put on our Gucci underwear and fight like cryptids?”

“I don’t think I have Gucci underwear,” Rowena muttered.

“I get mine off of Ebay,” Richard said with a wave of his wing. “You can borrow a pair.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to wear any sort of underwear that Richard owned. Besides, Richard had worn no pants so far, so why did he have underwear? Nothing made sense.

“If you think I haven’t thrown fists at a HOA meeting because Bonnie brought a store-bought pie for the annual bake sale, then you’d be wrong,” Richard said. “Because there are three things I can’t stand in this world.” He held up his talons accordingly. “One, store-bought pies at formal gathering. Two, cryptids being deported out of their home country. Three, Louis Vuitton luggage cases.”

“That’s an odd list,” Rowena said.

“Don’t question my priorities,” Richard said. “Now, are you going to accept my plan? Or are you going to try to do things your way.”

Max and Alicia exchanged a look. Then they leaned their heads close together, muttering quietly. Sam considered casting a private spell to enhance his hearing but then quickly decided against it. He would give the twins their privacy because they deserved it. And it was rude. And because Max looked so cute when he was conspiratorial.

“Fine,” Alicia said when they finally pulled apart. “We’ll follow your stupid plan.”

“Because it’s _not_ a stupid plan,” Max quickly included. He gave Alicia a pointed look. “Because, right now, it’s the best thing we have.”

Richard smoothed down his feathers and returned to both of his talons to the floor. He straightened his windbreaker and winced as the fabric crinkled, as if he had forgotten he was wearing it.

“But first,” he said. “I'm going to need a change of clothes. I can't save the world wearing Adidas.”

 


	13. Sighting #13

Once a plan was in place, things seemed to move much faster than usual. They cleaned the room of their presence and then Rowena spelled them all home, which meant she was exhausted as soon as they were home. She retreated to her bedroom to meditate and recover while Sam and Richard, with Max’s help, began to collect everything they would need.

Champ, it turned out, needed barely any convincing to join their cause. In a moment, she had opened up ten new screens on her three different laptops and was collecting data on the PETC agents and their whereabouts.

“Take these,” she said, opening a briefcase via a flipper-scanner and passing over three different wireless earpieces. “I’ll stay in contact.”

Richard had taken one without question, sticking it into his feathers easily. It sank out of view before Sam could question to logic of birds having no external ears. Sam stuck his in then too before Champ could get bossy.

“Give the last one to Witch Rowena,” Champ said, rearranging her entire set up because apparently a new mission needed a new formation of screens. She then shared a secretive smile with Richard. “I’m glad this the way we’re doing things,” she said softly. “I hate hurting our kind.”

Sam had to hold back a wince at that, guilty that he had been ready to turn Max and Alicia over to the government just to get back his summer of fun. How selfish he had been when his worldview had been narrowed down to just himself.

“Come on people!” Richard said, strutting out of the bathroom and breaking the moment like shattering a mirror. “We don’t have much time to waste!” He looked over his shoulder and smirked at Sam as much as a being with a beak could smirk. “And we’ve wasted as much time as it is.”

While Champ had jumped at the opportunity to join their cause, Richard had to give the same chance to Benji and Jimmy. The two nightcrawlers were out taking up as much sun as possible and wouldn’t be home until later that night.

They all meet in the kitchen. Max and Alicia were draped around one another, holding hands tightly. Rowena emerged from her bedroom looking fresh and well-rested, carrying a thick tome of spells and an armload of spell components from herbs to crystals to bones. Richard had stopped in the living room briefly and changed into a Gucci vest, camo with a huge embroidered tiger on the back. Sam felt exhausted and didn't have the chance to freshen up like anyone else and he felt like a dump standing in the small circle.

The microphone in his ear cracked to life, and suddenly Champ was there.

“Everyone online?” she asked. “The connections all seem strong. Let me know if you have any problems.”

“Here's the deal, people,” Richard said, stepping forward and raising his wings. “No cryptid deserves the shit humans force us to put up with. No familiar deserves to be abandoned by their witch.”

“Hear, hear,” Champ said through the connection.

“So we're gathered here together to put a stop to that,” Richard said, dropping his wings and raising a talon instead. “And it doesn't matter what we have to do, what kind of spells we have to cast, what lines we have to cross, or how many dicks I have to suck.”

“Excuse me?” Sam said.

Richard glared at him. “Those will be sacrifices we are willing to make,” he said, a bit louder as if to drive home his point. “From now on, we have each other's backs. And each other's fronts. We're all in this—together, for better or for worse.”

Rowena rolled her eyes and stepped forward with her huge book. She thumped it down on the table hard and swung it open. “You make it sound like a damn wedding,” she said, flipping over a couple pages until she stopped on an ancient map of the area. “No need to be so dramatic.”

Sam leaned forward to get a better look at the map, interested in the crackled, brown pages and the ancient lines of ink.

The map depicted the usual map of Maryland but with different boundaries than what was in place today. Instead of counties and state lines, coven territory was marked by think red lines. Symbols marking plant and crystal locations were also added. It was obviously important and alive, giving off a sense of Old Magic that made the hairs on Sam’s arms stand on end.

“Here,” Rowena said, taping an acrylic nail against a spot on the map. “This is where we are.” She moved her finger an inch to the left. “Here is the border of our territory. If we can get Max and Alicia here, then we can pass them off to another coven. With a spell tag for safety, they can travel as far as they need to, snacking on whatever magic they need along the way.”

Sam swallowed and looked to Max to see what his reaction was to all of this.

The familiar looked a little nervous but was clinging to his sister for comfort.

Sam kinda wished Max would cling to him.

Which was a very awkward thought because it was only a couple nights ago that Max had been munching on his magic. Awkward? Yeah. Intimate? Oh, definitely. Sam was definitely not an objective opinion in this case. Maybe he shouldn't be offering his opinion on this matter.

“While you figure that out,” Richard said, stepping away from the table. “I'm going to start the binding ceremony. Champ, if you could contact Benji and Jimmy, having their help would be great. Naturally mischievous. They could help distract the agents when we need it.”

“Of course,” Champ said. “I'll get on that immediately.” There was a clatter of keys as she began typing, but the audio cut out as she disconnected.

“We all have jobs,” Richard said, already turning and walking into the living room. “Let’s get to work!”

Sam didn’t have a job. He wondered if Richard did that on purpose.

“I’ll prepare some spells,” Rowena said, snapping her tome shut and hefting it up into her arms. “For both the mission and for you two to eat.” She nodded at Max and Alicia. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” With a swish of her red hair, she disappeared down the hall into her bedroom.

“Well,” Alicia said, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m going to nap in the backyard, as a cat.” She looked at Max and pulled away, clutching his hand still, trying to pull him along.

Max didn’t move.

“You coming?” Alicia asked.

Max shrugged. “I’m not tired,” he said. “I’m gonna stay with Sam.”

Sam swallowed and tried to disguise his surprise. He was even more surprised when Alicia actually let go of Max’s hand without argument and shrugged, moving out of the kitchen and towards the backyard. Sam hoped she would wait until she was outside before transforming. Not that anything would stop her.

“Good, she’s gone,” Max said, pushing himself off the counter and stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rode up way too high to not be on purpose. He peeked out from under his eyelashes as Sam. “I was waiting for her to leave.”

Sam gulped and stepped back, finding himself pressed against the counter almost immediately. “Uh, don’t you think we should concentrate on the mission right now?”

“Why can’t we focus on anything else?” Max asked, taking another step forward and slipping his shirt up over his head. As his head came clear, two black cat ears perked up on the top of his head. When he smirked again, a third green eye on his forehead opened. He took another step, and Sam could have sworn he was _purring_.

Like a fucking cat.

A black tail flopped out of Max's pants next. A literal black tail, Sam wanted to add. That wasn't a euphemism. It twitched and curled around Max's waist as if it had a mind of its own.

Max took another step forward.

Sam pressed himself back against the counter harder.

“Um, uh, I'm not a furry,” he said stupidly.

Max only grinned, revealing canine teeth that jutted down a lot farther than they were supposed to. God, it was doing horrible things to Sam's body, sending way too many mixed signals.

“That didn't stop you before,” Max said, creeping a bit closer.

He was now chest-to-chest with Sam, significantly shorter but somehow more in control. His tail curled around Sam's thigh now, squeezing teasingly and suggestively. Max placed both his hands on Sam's shoulders and pulled himself up, their lips now well within kissing range. His ears twitched for a moment before laying themselves back, and Sam couldn't decide if he should look at Max's normal eyes or the third one on his forehead. All were glowing slightly green.

“Excuse me,” Max said, walking his fingers across Sam’s shoulders and up to his lips. “My eyes are up here.”

Sam blushed even though he was doing nothing wrong.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” he said. “With, uh, everything that needs to be done?”

Max rolled all three of his eyes. “What? We can’t have a little fun?” He sighed then, ears drooping down and his gaze going to his feet. He leaned back down, definitely more reserved than he was before. “You mean there was nothing between us before? That was all . . . a lie?”

Sam had to pause now, because what had this entire relationship been about? Max had needed magic and Sam had been the one who had magic. Hadn’t it been just that simple? Sam looked at Max now, huddled against his chest, from suave to trembling in a moment. Maybe it hadn’t just been magic in his mind. Maybe it had been more than that. Sam had never had a familiar before.

“It wasn’t a lie,” he decided. Because he had definitely felt something. “But, I also didn’t like the fact that you were . . . . uh, eating me.”

“I was eating your magic,” Max corrected but rocked back on his heels and took a step away from Sam. “But I get it. I really should have asked. It’s just . . . . I was desperate. Alicia and I were both desperate.”

“I understand,” Sam said, because he really thought he did. He stepped forward and placed his hands gently on Max’s hips, tugging him a bit closer. “And I really wish you would have asked, but you gotta admit, it _was_ kinda hot.”

Max smiled shyly up at him. “Was it?”

Sam nodded, mock seriously. “Of course.”

Max grinned, back to his flirty, flaunty self. He hooked his hands around Sam’s neck and pulled himself up enough to plant a brave kiss right on Sam’s lips. “Does this mean you’ll fuck me tonight?” he purred, his tail re-wrapping itself around Sam’s leg, even higher than before.

Sam blushed hard, not sure if he should pull away or kiss Max back.

“I’ll only bite a little,” Max said with a smirk. “And I promise to leave your magic alone.”  

Before something stupid could come out of Sam’s mouth, both his and Max’s earpieces crackled to life, and they weren’t as alone as they thought they were.

“I’m still here,” Champ said through their earpieces. “Not to shame though. Get it when you can.”

Max was blushing and shoved away from Sam, tail slipping back inside his pants and his third eye closing up firmly.

Sam's face was as hot as Max.

“I have both found and contacted Jimmy and Benji,” Champ went on. “They agreed to help of course. They’re heading to the bay, but they’re talking a lot about a huge storm. That will throw off the PETC agents of course, but it could throw off us as well. I thought I should warn you before you started any sort of plan.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam said. “That’s . . . helpful. Thanks, Champ!”

“Of course, Witch Samuel,” Champ said. “And remember, no one here really judges.”

The earpiece crackled off, and they were alone again. Sam still didn’t trust himself though and stepped away from Max. He smiled to show that nothing was too wrong. Max returned the smile and stepped back as well, grabbing his shirt off the floor and slipping it back on.

“Later,” he said, almost like a promise and flounced past Sam towards the backyard, probably to join his sister.

 


	14. Sighting #14

“The agents are bound!” Richard declared around an hour later, emerging from the living room in a mess of feathers and sweat. He looked a lot less put together than he normally did. “We need to get moving as fast as possible.”

That didn’t stop him from slicking back his feathers and changing into a Gucci vest and Versace underwear. Sam had to admit, it was weird to see him fully dressed. The only thing that was missing, really, was shoes of some kind. With his talons, though, shoes would be a huge problem.

“Let’s get moving, cryptids!” he called, flapping his wings as he bounced around the kitchen. “When the sun goes down, we move out!”

Sam, who had been meditating in his room, slowly drew himself back to the waking world so he didn’t jar his energy too much. He had surrounded himself with crystals, both to charge himself and them at the same time. He made sure to stretch his joints and muscles before stepping out of his circle.

“Come on, cryptids!” Richard was yelling. “Let’s go! Let’s go, cryptids!”

Sam had to plaster himself against the wall of the hallway as Champ heaved herself across the floor, dripping water everywhere as she left the bathroom for the first time since she arrived. She was beaming though, showing off sharp teeth. Sam waited for her to pass and then followed for himself.

Max and Alicia were already in the kitchen, still in their feline forms. Max was on the counter, stretched long so that his stomach hung into the sink and his six legs draped down over the dishwasher. Alicia was on the floor, giving herself a tongue bath. Champ had settled in front of the fridge with her flippers crossed politely, and Rowena was still clutching her tomes, flipping through to find any last minute spells. Sam squeezed in next to her, feeling more at home with another witch than anywhere else in the room.

Max caught his gaze though and held it for a moment before giving him a wink with his third eye.

“Alright!” Richard said, jumping up onto the table and flaring his wings. The power was definitely going straight to his head. “The plan is in motion. There’s no going back now. The agents have been bound, thanks to me. Champ has contacted the coven across the border and they’re ready for Max and Alicia. Benji and Jimmy are keeping an eye on the rest of the territory.”

“They mentioned a storm,” Champ said, lifting a flipper to adjust the headset around her head. “When we go out, we need to be aware of weather.”

“On it,” Richard said already darting off the table. “Everyone, wait a moment!”

It took him less than a minute to return, this time draped in a clear plastic raincoat with wide enough sleeves for his wings. It was both parts stylish and practical, as it didn’t hide the designer clothes he wore underneath. He took a moment to pose in the doorway before jumping back up on the table.

“Very stylish, Richard,” Champ said, giving him a toothy smile.

“Thanks, Champ,” Richard said, shooting Sam an irritated look. “At least _someone_ here knows fashion.”

“Can we stick on topic?” Rowena asked, looking up from her book. “We need to get Max and Alicia to safety and, despite our collective amazing fashion sense, they still are our priority.”

“I know,” Richard said, shifting his glare from Sam to her. “I was getting to that.”

Alicia let out a loud meow from her spot on the floor and if a cat could look simultaneously bored and angry and irritated and exhausted all at the same time, she somehow managed it. Max, also, looked like he was going to fall asleep on the counter.

“We can’t stay in the kitchen forever,” Champ said. “For multiple reasons. One, I need some sort of water or else I will die. Two, Familiars Max and Alicia need magic or else they will die. Three, the agents will be coming sooner or later so we need to move fast.”

Richard pointed his wing at her. “Good point! Let’s move out!”

“Wait!” Sam said. “Rowena and I need to get changed.” It wouldn’t be fair if Richard got to do this mission dressed to the nines and he and Rowena were left in their day-old pajamas. Sam wasn’t about to let that happen.

Richard rolled his eyes. “Fine. But hurry.”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice.

He hurried out of the room, already sending a spell to open his closet and display his wardrobe. What was a Saving-The-World outfit? Something bomb-ass diggity? Something slightly slutty? Could Sam, hypothetically, seduce the agents and save the world with his long ass legs? Hypothetically, of course. At the end, Sam didn’t want to be outdone by Richard.

He chose mesh shorts in the end, with thigh-high socks so that it wasn’t completely stripper-trying-to-make-rent. (Of course, he then needed garter belts to make sure they stayed up but that was beside the point.) He strapped on heavy black hiking boots with huge clunky heels that he may or may not have done a sex scene in. Something about cops and robbers and handcuffs. Or maybe not, Sam wasn’t going to kiss and tell.

He chose a crop top next. He had spells to protect his midriff and it would be plenty warm enough. He pulled on a bomber jacket, pulled his hair back into a short ponytail, and then spelled on a bit of makeup. Just light foundation, highlights, eyeliner and shadow, and lipstick—most of it in black. Or grey. Sam was feeling dramatic.

He strapped on a choker with a d-ring and dog tags that identified his coven. This was a witches’ matter and he was going to be a witch about it.  

Rowena, it turned out, had a much better sense of drama than he did. In the few minutes it had taken him to piece together an outfit, she had formulated an entire aesthetic.

She wore a tiny black dress and spider web leggings. Her flaming red hair had been curled and pinned up, showing off her slender neck and the fact that her dress was backless, almost down to her ass. She wore black heels, wedges because they would be running around outside and Rowena wasn’t completely stupid. Her fingers were adorned with spelled rings and her wrists with crystals and prayer beads. Her eyeliner was as sharp as the knife strapped to the garter belt on her thigh.

Her acrylic nails were filed down the sharp points, and if Sam knew anything about anything, they were probably dipped in poison. Rowena was deadly from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, emphasis on top.

Sam swallowed without meaning to and inclined his head to her, twisting his hands in a half moon over his heart to show respect to his coven's High Witch. Sometimes, he forgot about the coven hierarchy and the social expectations and power struggles that were day to day problems in witch life. And then times like this reminded him that he was just a young immortal barely into his years and that Rowena was an ancient power, vast beyond himself in power and experience.

Sam did his best to ignore the rush of magic that flowed through his body at being called to action by his High Witch.

But it was intoxicating.

“Let's go,” Rowena said, holding up a bag of spell components and tossing it to him.

Sam checked the contents briefly, surprised to find much more than the normal supplies he and Rowena usually worked with. Crow's blood and lizard bones were the first things he saw and those alone were rare enough to make him pause, not to mention all the crystals and bundles of herbs he could see too. He gave her a look, but she only shrugged.

“It's an emergency,” she said and turned to Richard. “What comes next?”

“Now,” Richard said, jumping down off the table and striking a very dramatic pose. “We get Max and Alicia out of here.”

The two hulking cats pushed themselves to their feet, all twelve paws planted firmly on the kitchen linoleum. Ready to escape. Ready to survive. Max gave a loud meow, lifting his head up and puffing out his chest. Alicia seemed to roll all three of her eyes.

A flash of lightning briefly lit the room and was followed quickly by a violent crack of thunder. A moment later, the first sheets of rain pelted the house, and the storm that Jimmy and Benji had mentioned was upon them in a second.

Rowena snapped her fingers to protect herself and Sam with a spell that would prevent the raindrops from hitting them, but her confidence didn’t waiver otherwise. And they all still dutifully made their way towards the front door to start on the mission.

The sky was heavily overcast, the dark grey clouds fat with rain and stretching as far as the eye could see. The storm would be a heavy one, one that would last for a while. They would have to fight against it the entire time. Already, the wind was sending sheets of rain slashing across the sky, and the occasional flash of lightning lit up the clouds, followed very quickly but a clap of thunder.

Champ seemed to be the most grateful for the rain, sliding down the front steps and across the soaked grass, able to move as quickly as an otter on the wet surface. And she was suddenly the very powerful sea monster that the stories told of, fangs peeking out from her mouth and all her muscles coiled and moved with both strength and precision. With a twitch of her writhing tail, she disappeared into the underbrush and the forest, the only remains of her their connection to the headset she still wore.

“Well then,” Richard said, stepping out into the downpour and immediately getting drenched from beak to talons. He shook off his wings, but the action was essentially useless, since they were sopping when in another second. “Let’s go. Head for the border of your territory. I’ll keep watch from above and warn you if anything is coming.”

Before Sam could thank him, Richard launched himself into the air and was gone in the overcast clouds that draped across the sky. He was gone in an instant, leaving Rowena and Sam and Max and Alicia on the ground. By themselves but not really entirely alone.

“Alright,” Rowena said, already rummaging through her bag of supplies. “The storm will slow us down and I don't have the magic to protect everyone. Now, if I had enough malachite, I could teleport us all to the border, but that's a little dangerous in a group this size. We could, instead—”

“Split up,” Alicia said, her head half-transformed sort of like a Sphinx so she could talk. Huge fangs still jutted down from her mouth and her third eye was still present. Monstrous. “The agents will have a harder time catching smaller groups of us. We should split up.”

“Aye, but that's more dangerous, too,” Rowena said, pulled out a packet of spell paper and being very careful to keep it dry. “Puts you and Max in harm's way that we could easily avoid.”

Alicia just rolled her eyes. “We've already been in harm's way,” she said. “Doing this isn't any different than what we were doing before. I'll go with you, Witch, and Max can go with Sam.”

Max meowed and cocked his head, looking at her with what Sam would interpret as confusion.

“It's best this way,” Alicia said and then shifted back to her full feline form to indicate that the conversation was over and wasn't open to debate. She meowed insistently at Rowena and then slipped off into the forest, disappearing into the shadows.

“Well,” Rowena said with a huff, stuffing the huge chunk of malachite she had found back into her bag. “I guess we’ll be doing that.” She smoothed down the front of her dress, made sure her spell would stick on Sam when she walked away, and then followed Alicia into the forest.

And that left Sam and Max all alone.

“We should get moving,” Sam said, figuring he should take charge.

What would be the best option? Protection sigils to prevent the agents from seeing them? Perhaps malachite like Rowena had been planning, to transport them straight to the border? Sam could always shadow walk but the drain on his energy wouldn’t be good if they got into any sort of altercation with the agents. Walking would take much too long.

Max meowed and did a half-turn, offering his back to Sam and looking at him expectantly.

“You sure?” Sam said, looking from the wide expanse of Max’s shoulder up to his glowing green eyes.

Max meowed as if to say ‘you idiot’ and looked pointedly at his shoulders again.

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He slung his spell bag over his shoulder, making it was secure, before climbing onto Max and settling just behind his shoulder blade. He sunk his hands into the thick fur of Max’s scruff, the perfect thing to hold onto on. He squeezed with his thighs to help balance himself but didn’t want to dig in with his heels, figuring that would be rude.

Max turned a circle to get Sam used to moving and then they were off too, slipping into the forest just like Champ had done.

The spell that Rowena had cast on Sam kept the branches and leaves out of his face as well, although some whipped around whipped around his feet. Nothing that could tear him off or hurt him, but it still sent a thrill of danger and adrenaline through Sam’s body. He gripped Max tighter and leaned forward, as if he were riding a horse or something similar.

He hadn’t told Max which direction the border was or where they were headed, but somehow he knew exactly where to go. He ran along through the forest, taking the right turns until he came to the end of the cover that the trees would provide.

Sam’s territory stretched out before them, and he was able to look at it in a way that he never had before.

The forest where their house was nestled didn’t stretch out too far. They lived pretty close to civilization, since neither Sam nor Rowena could go too long without a shopping spree. That meant cars and bustling crowds even though they weren’t near a city that was too large. Sam knew of the huge highway that stretched across their entire territory. They would have to cross that first before getting to their border.

The Potomac River.

Nothing that was overly dangerous. Sam knew there was a little bit of ghost activity around the 14th Street Bridge but nothing that would stop them from crossing.

Sam wondered if this was the route that Max and Alicia had been planning on taking this entire time.

Maybe?

There wasn’t time to ask now.

All of Max’s muscles tensed up at once, and then he bounded forward, reaching speeds that Sam wasn’t used to. He had to clutch tightly to Max’s fur or risk being thrown off. It was almost like a horse but different. Max’s gait was smooth and deliberate and didn’t jostle Sam as much as a horse’s gallop would. All six of his paws thudded against the ground with minimal noise, but sure and steady and wouldn’t break at the first sign of stress.

They broke past the first neighborhood, and Max settled into the middle of the near empty road. There were no cars to share the road with which meant fast travel and easy ground cover. Max was huffing for breath after a few minutes, but his pace didn’t let up.

Sam wondered if he should channel his energy into Max to help. He felt awkward just riding without providing any assistance.

He was about to reach into his spell bag to find something that could help when a motorcycle roared passed them on their right, having seemingly come out of nowhere.

Sam jerked in surprise, almost losing his grip on Max’s fur. He glared over at the careless driver, ready to give them the finger and a piece of his mind. That’s when a lead weight settled in his stomach, as he quickly took in the police symbol and armed officer riding the vehicle. The visor of the helmet covered their entire face and eyes, but Sam knew they were staring straight at him. Without looking at the road, the officer unclipped a radio from their belt and brought it to the mouthpiece of the helmet.

“I’ve spotted targets on a side road, headed towards Interstate 395. Deploy preventative measures and initiate capture sequences. Bring down the cryptid at All. Costs.”

The words sent a chill down Sam’s spine, and Max’s ears were plastered against his head. Sam could tell he was focused on running, his breath heaving and causing his ribs to pump in and out, but he picked up even more speed. Sam didn’t know where his stamina came from, but they edged passed the officer and then even further.

Sam thought that was going to be it, but a gunshot made him press himself flat against Max’s back, stifling a yelp of surprise.

The officer was fucking shooting at them?!

The rain and Rowena’s spell were probably the other reasons that the shot went wide, and Sam knew he couldn’t just sit there. He wrenched his spell bag around in front of himself and rummaged around, grabbing the first item that could be used offensively and whipping it out.

It was a small knit doll and a chunk of amber, two of the best things Sam could have chosen and both highly powerful. Rowena knew what she was doing.

Sam kept one hand clenched tightly in Max's fur and used the other to put the amber in his mouth. He held it carefully on his tongue, not wanting to swallow an item with that much energy. He held the doll up and invoked a word of power. It was slightly jumbled but with the source of the spell directly on his tongue, it didn't really matter.

The magic rushed out of him and into the doll, slipping into the stitches and going straight for the felt heart the Sam knew was inside. He held it back from being lethal but definitely wanted to get the agent off their asses.  

He didn't even need to look behind him. The squeal of wheels as the rubber lost traction on the road was a telling sign enough. As well as the thud as the body hit the road. At least the agent didn't start screaming.

Sam tossed the used doll aside. It was smoldering and used up anyway. He spit the amber out into his palm, making sure to pocket that. Crystals could always be used twice.

Max was still huffing for breath, maintaining his speed even though the agent was no longer chasing them. Sam was going to tell him he could slow down but they took a sharp turn out of the sparse neighborhood and they were at the highway.

Max skidded to a stop, having to use all six of his legs to prevent his momentum from throwing him into oncoming traffic. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, sides still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Sam rubbed him along the shoulders and was about to suggest that they rest for a few minutes before continuing. Running themselves into the ground wouldn’t be any more helpful than getting caught.

A vibrant flash of light combined with a sudden strike of lightning made him jerk up, startled. And as the thunder rolled across the sky and into his chest, Sam felt his breath catch as he spotted the small caravan of police vehicles speeding down the highway. There had to be about twelve of them in total, all with their lights and sirens on. Even the rain couldn’t hide the danger.

“Oh shit,” Sam said.

Max shook himself of the water that had collected in his fur and hissed around his panting.

They couldn’t stop now. The rest of the highway was bustling with cars which would slow the officers down some but not much.

Sam clenched his hands in Max’s fur, probably tighter than necessary. He had never felt this panicked before, never felt the sort of urgency and adrenaline that came with a police chase. No spell or alcohol or drug could mimic this feeling, and Sam was most definitely _not_ getting addicted to it.

A bang of a gunshot brought him back to reality, and he stupidly realized the actual danger that they were in.

“I’ll find some spells,” he told Max. “You just keep us moving.”

Sam actually felt the next bullet whiz past his shoulder, the heat of it the most notable thing in the freezing cold of the rainstorm. He ducked instinctively as Max jumped into motion again. Sam waited for their speed to even out before tugging open his bag again.  

What spells could be used? Yeah, magic was cool but there still wasn’t a lot that would stop a good old fashioned bullet. Sam shuddered, wondering if they were witch-killing bullets. He sure hoped not.

Max’s paws thudded against the rain-slick road, matching Sam’s staccato heartbeat. The other cars on the road were starting to pull over now as they were prompted by the sirens. It was both good and bad, as now Max had a clear path to run but the officers also had a clear path to drive.

More gunshot echoed into the sky, the bullets ricocheting off the asphalt, missing but only by a little. Sam stayed hunched down over Max’s back, not wanting to risk sitting up to find any sort of spell. Max was panting. Exhausted. Sam wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep up this pace.

A shriek that wasn’t a gun made him jerk his head up, and at first, he didn’t know where it had come from until Richard dipped down below the cloud line. Wind and rain whipped through his feathers, making him look more monstrous than usual. His red eyes glowed, very much visible even in the stormy conditions. He shrieked again, diving down lower so that he was closer to Sam.

“Rowena and Alicia are safe!” he yelled over the wind and rain. “The agents are all here.”

“Well that’s just shit,” Sam said, more to himself than to Richard.

“I can distract them,” Richard said, still shouting to be heard. “I’ll keep them occupied while you—”

Another gunshot sounded. One of Richard’s wings snapped in a way that wasn’t natural. With a shriek of pain, he was tumbling from the sky, heading straight for the concrete of the highway.

 


End file.
